


I know places we won't be found

by CiaraSky, isabel



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 2x05, 2x07, 2x08, 2x09, 2x10, Acceptance, Anger, Anger Management, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Boat Grounder, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hiking, Illnesses, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, POV Alternating, Running Away, Shooting, Sick Character, Torture, grounder life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaraSky/pseuds/CiaraSky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabel/pseuds/isabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naia knows she's different. And when a boy from the Sky People is brought to her village and being tortured it shows clearly just how different.</p><p>Or when a Grounder girl can't accept the way her people treat the Sky People and wants to help Murphy.</p><p>Author's note: If you like Memori, this is probably something for you (:</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok little nuggets :3 This is something I wrote in such a rush, but I got really positive responses to the idea itself already, and I wanted to finish it tonight, but there's just so much more I need to write, I want to do it justice. So, multiple chapters.  
> beta'd by my wonderwonderful Verity! Will check it again for any mistakes tomorrow, it's 4 in the morning!

 

 

Naia searches through the small stack of clothes in their hut, hoping to find something, anything, to keep her warm. All the clothes are worn out, threadbare, and nowhere near thick enough to give the girl any warmth. She sighs and turns around, heading over to her bed to pull the fur over her shoulders.

“Naia?” her mother’s voice comes muffled through the tarp working as a makeshift door.

“I’m here,” she calls back, heading over to the entrance, but then her mother comes inside, her braided hair falling over her shoulders.

“Hey _sweeta_ _1_ ,” she greets her and gives the girl a kiss on the forehead. Naia leans into the touch. “Are you cold again?”

Naia nods and pulls the fur a bit tighter around herself.

“I wish we ha…” Loud voices stop her. She turns her head towards the door and then back to her mother. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t think…” her mother starts but Naia is already moving and out of the door. It’s dark outside and the moon shines through the treetops, but the girl can see exactly what’s going on.

The gate is being closed behind a party of four of their own men dragging an unfamiliar figure in their middle.

“Chon bilaik daun2?” Naia asks her mother absent-mindedly who now stands next to her, but doesn’t take her eyes off the group crossing the village.

“GET OFF ME,” the boy screams, and he can’t be older than her. He’s clearly one of the Sky People, the ones who fell from the sky not so long ago. He rebels violently against the guards holding him by his arms, dragging him over to the train station.

“Shof op3!” one of the guards says but if it accomplishes anything, than it’s for the boy to revolt even more.

“I don’t speak your damn grounder slang!” the boy says, and Naia watches him as he’s dragged past her. The twilight obscures his features some, but she sees the hair falling into his eyes. They lock eyes for a second before Naia is pulled aside by her mother.

“You don’t want to mingle with him,” she says as she guides her away from the train station, but Naia throws one last glance behind at the boy. All she sees is the back of his head.

*

Back inside their hut, Naia instantly turns to her mother again.

“Why did they capture him?”

Her mother fixes her with a stern look.

“The people from the sky are a threat. Maybe the Mountain Men sent them. We need to get to know as much about them as possible.”

“How do we know that?” Naia can’t believe it. “And also: By torturing him?! How is that going to help? He can’t be older than me! Would you want someone to torture me?” she asks accusingly. She’s not even sorry.

“No more!” her mother demands, her face fiery with anger. Naia opens her mouth to protest, but then knows better than to provoke her mother with contradictions, so she shuts it. She sits down on her bed frustrated.

That’s when the first scream breaks the peaceful silence of the village.

And Naia knows that precaution is a basic principle of their life, with it constantly at stake because of the Mountain Men and the Reapers, but these are just kids. Like herself. And she can’t bring herself to agree with her people. These people from the sky – they didn’t attack them. All they did was come crashing down on their land. And you can’t hate someone for that.

*

The boy’s screams echo through the village throughout the next day. Naia can’t think straight because of it. She’s supposed to work together with Artigas, let him teach her how to become a warrior, but she can’t concentrate. Throwing her dagger at trees ends in it almost getting buried in the neck of one of the elders, and Naia abandons the practice after that.

She ignores her mother’s warning and wanders outside the village and aimlessly through the woods for hours on end, just to escape the boy’s screams. But not hearing them doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about them.

And she knows that she shouldn’t think that, but she wants to end it. The Sky People are no threat, they can’t be. Their lives are full of dangers already, and she just can’t bring herself to believe that the Sky People were sent to wipe them out.

When Naia finally returns back to her village as twilight falls, the boy doesn’t scream anymore. She’s glad. She couldn’t have taken it.

*

The next morning, she tries to practice with Artigas again. Today it’s fighting two-on-two, and Naia is glad. She can’t actually hurt people this way – at least not seriously – and it takes her mind off things.

Artigas knows not to ask what’s going on with her, and she’s glad. She’s not good at keeping her emotions bottled, and she’d rather not talk about all of this. So they fight until the sun is at the zenith and they go to get something to eat. Naia settles for some dried berries and a piece of freshly smoked meat.

And then the boy screams again.

The berries fall from her grip and Naia shudders. She has to know what’s going on. If he’s doing okay.

 

“You have no business here,” Banto, one of the guards, growls as she paces in front of the door to the train station. She stops in her tracks. It’s no use, they won’t let her in, no matter how long she lingers here. She turns on her heels and heads in the opposite direction.

But as soon as she is out of view, she turns around and sneaks around their village, approaching the station from the back. She remembers from when she was a kid that there are air vents, but she never explored them. And sure enough, as she inspects the backside of the building, she finds a grate blocking the vent. She pushes her finger through it and pulls. And again. On the third try, it gives away and she topples over.

She shoves the grate off of herself and crawls into the vent. It’s barely enough space for her to fit in, but she keeps crawling.

It’s like someone slices her eardrums open as an agonizing scream cuts through the silence. It’s even more intense inside the metal walls of the vent, and Naia clasps her hands over her ears for a second as good as possible. But then the scream dies away and another voice is carried over to her. Naia starts crawling again.

“How many of you are there?” the person asks and Naia immediately recognizes it as Anya. The boy doesn’t respond.

Naia keeps crawling.

“How many?” But again, the boy doesn’t answer. But he screams seconds later.

Naia keeps crawling.

Finally, she comes to the end of the vent. The grate hides her from the view of the people inside the station, but she can see all of them clearly.

The boy is tied to a stake, his arms high above his head. His matted hair falls into his eyes like two days before, but now he’s covered in blood. Naia clasps her hand before her mouth.

_Why are they doing that?_ she asks herself, but all the answers in her brain don’t make sense to her. She eyes all of the places in which the boy’s shirt is ripped, or worse, singed, and has a hard time not to gag.

“I will only ask once again, John Murphy of the Sky People – how many of you are there?” Anya hisses in a threatening voice. She steps closer to the boy, and Naia sees him stir. He raises his head to look directly into their leader’s eyes. His eyelids are heavy, but he manages to smirk.

“Go float yourself.”

Naia understands the words, but not their meaning, but in the way he says them, she knows that it is an insult, like _branwada_ is for them. He has to pay the price immediately. One of Anya’s guards produces a pincers from a table next to him and steps in front of the boy. He loosens one of the slings securing the boy’s – John’s – wrists and takes it into a firm grip. Naia doesn’t even have to look to know what happens next. The boy’s cry is enough to go by. It shudders her down to her bones.

When she dares to open her eyes again, she sees the flow of blood from the boy’s hand and two bloody pieces on the floor. His fingernails.

“Let this be a learning experience,” Anya says and Naia knows it’s a threat. She backs out of the vent as quickly as possible. She doesn’t want to see any more of this.

*

Naia crawls back into the vent again the next day, and John looks even worse then. Slashes and cuts cover his arms and face, blood crusted everywhere. She wants to throw up, to scream, to cut the boy from his bonds, to get him out of here. But she can’t. She can’t help him, and it’s driving her insane.

But she returns the day after that again. She can’t help it. All she can do is make sure he’s still alive. And he is. Barely hanging on, but still standing strong. But a big burn covers his right shoulder and the smell of singed flesh still lingers in the air. Naia flees.

She stumbles out of the vent and onto her knees, but bobs up and walks away from the air vent, her eyes still lingering on it, her thoughts still lingering on what she just saw. When she finally tears her eyes away, they find something else. Her mother right before her.

A slap that wipes the air from her lungs for a second hits her before she knows what’s happening. Naia clutches her hand over her cheek as she looks at her mother like a beaten dog.

“I told you not to mingle with him. But I should have known better. You’re hopeless.” With a final glance, her mother turns around and leaves Naia standing between the huts on her own.

*

Naia doesn’t dare return to the air vent. She knows that her mother told the guards, there’s just no other way, and like that, she can’t do anything else.

So she escapes their village as often as possible. She’s mostly on her own, but sometimes, Artigas comes with her. She always comes back before nightfall, bringing some hare or fish with her occasionally, so that it seems she’s still contributing to the village. But all she really wants is for her people to leave the Sky People alone. She knows that the Sky People wiped out another village of theirs with these weird fires they sent into the sky, but they looked more like a version of their own communication fires than an attack. They just had to be.

*

Two days later when Naia returns to the village earlier than usual, she immediately notices that something is different. And she also finds out what – the door to the train station stands wide open. She storms over to it. The two men guarding the building don’t stop her when she enters it.

She rushes down the stairs and then finds herself in the room in which they held Murphy captive. Anya stands before the stake, like she awaited her.

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” her leader asks and untangles her arms from before her chest. She steps towards Naia. “For the Sky boy to be free? Well, he is. But we sent him with an illness that will let us wipe out all of them.”

“No!” Naia cries furiously. “Don’t you see that you’re making everything worse? You can still end this, Anya!” Naia wants to kick and scream, but she keeps herself still, her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from crying. She tastes blood.

“It is already done,” Anya responds calmly and rounds her. When Naia hears her leader’s footsteps on the stairs, her knees give away under her and she slumps to the ground. She had no way of stopping this, but still she blames herself. A single teardrop falls to the ground.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 swee-ta, Sweetheart  
> 2 Who is that?  
> 3 Shut up!
> 
> Thaaaaaank you for reading. I hope you will stick around for the next chapters. Just so much: You will see Naia defend Murphy ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright darlings, here's the second chapter. I guess a few of you have wondered, but yes, Naia does indeed understand and speak English. She trains to become a warrior and thus, she has to learn English. Just so much.  
> The pagination of the footnotes/references is consecutively, following the ones of Chapter 1.  
> Still unbeta'd, will again update as soon as that is done (:

The next day passes in a haze. Naia is on patrol duty, circling the wall surrounding their village. It’s all set up, and her people don’t even try to hide it. They eye her with a kind of fearful uncertainty, or in Anya’s and her mother’s case, disgust. They know what she would have done if she had the chance.

And Naia knows that, especially after what happened on the bridge where Anya and the leader of the Sky People met, she shouldn’t defend the Sky People anymore. But then again, she knows that she is not alone in thinking the way she does. Lincoln, one of the warriors who set up the meeting, tends to defend the Sky People too. It’s her only source of comfort.

When Naia comes back into the village as night falls, she’s greeted with warriors gathering in the open space between their huts. Naia pockets her dagger and heads over to the group. She’s a few feet away when Anya steps in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Naia asks and catches glimpses of the warriors attaching swords, axes and bows to their gear.

“We attack the Sky People at first light.” The leader’s face is emotionless.

“What? No!” Naia tries to protest, but she knows that she has no vote in this.

“Your precious Sky boy will be dead before the sun has risen.” Anya steps away, leaving Naia to gaze after her.

She stands like this for a few seconds before she springs into action and heads out of the village again. She ignores the voices calling after her, her mother’s voice among them, and just keeps running. She knows that it is too late to warn the Sky People and anyway, would they believe her? A random grounder girl just turning up at their village? So instead, she heads towards Lincoln’s cave. She has been there only once, but she finds the way smoothly.

She stumbles down the sloping way into the cave and absorbs her velocity as she connects with the stone wall.

“Lincoln?” she says and as she rounds the corner, she finds him, tall and lithic. He turns around to her.

“Naia? What are you doing here?” He inspects her, and she knows that he’s wondering if she’s injured.

“Please. Did you… tell me, did you warn the Sky People?” She looks up at him hopefully. Lincoln clenches his jaw.

“Yes.” Naia sighs relieved. Silences stretches between them. Finally, Naia looks up at the warrior. “You shouldn’t have come here. It’s dangerous,” he says calmly.

“I don’t care, okay? I don’t care what Anya says. The Sky People are _not_ our enemy.”

Lincoln gives her a small smile.

“We two are different from the rest of our people. But in this world, it means danger. I don’t want you to risk the little security you have by siding with the Sky People, as much as you want to. Siding with them, it would mean betrayal. And betrayal means death. Do you want to die, Naia?”

The girl worries her lip, coming to her senses. She looks around the cave for a long time before she can look at Lincoln again.

“But I can’t let them die. I can’t let _him_ die. He doesn’t deserve it,” Naia says, her voice calmer than she feels inside.

“You’re not the one deciding if he deserve to die or not,” Lincoln says and lays his hands onto her shoulders. He fixes her with his gaze. “This is out of your hands. You hear me? Go back to Tondc, tell our people that you don’t know what came over you and keep a straight face. You can’t do anything for them.”

And so she does. She trots back to her village, the moon illuminating her way, as she tries to come to terms with the imminent death of the Sky children. Nobody talks to her when she crosses the village and enters her hut. Her mother is inside.

“Oh thank the spirits you’re back!” she says and crosses the room to embrace Naia. Who stands rigid. “I thought I lost you when you went out of that gate. I’m sorry.”

Naia just nods at her mother, unable to form words at the sudden sweetness. But she understands: if she hadn’t come back now, she would have been a traitor.

*

But she doesn’t want to die. She has her mother, Artigas… and the Sky People. Naia can’t even point her finger on the reason why she keeps on defending them – even less after they blow up the bridge, killing Tris and two other warriors – and she also wants to stop caring, but something inside her keeps telling her that the Sky Children aren’t evil.

But Naia can’t sit in her village, doing nothing. She keeps training together with Artigas, yes, but it’s not enough to keep her occupied. She volunteers to keep watch, and Anya grants it. She volunteers to go on the hunting sprees, and additionally to that, she wanders the woods whenever she can.

But her people are angry, furious, and they want revenge. And Naia knows she can’t stop them.

*

The inevitable fight arrives. Anya calls out to Tristan’s clan to join them and together they head to the Sky Children’s village with 300 warriors.

Naia watches them leave with an uneasy feeling. She doesn’t want anyone to fight, or worse, to die, but she knows that a part of her people will die because of the bomb at the bridge. Naia knows that that was just a taste of what the Sky Children could do with their technology.

But when the news of the outcome of the fight are brought to her village, she can’t help to feel rage. Almost all of the men fit for action in her village went into battle, and only three came back.

And Anya is gone as well. Luiz, one of the three men who came back, tells them that she entered the drop ship before nobody could get inside anymore. And that’s when the world lit up in fire.

The people left in her village mourn, and Indra, a woman guided by rage and viciousness, takes over to lead them until they know what happened to Anya. And nobody even looks after Naia when she escapes the village.

She knows what she has to do. She takes a thick jacket which is far too big for her and a mask with her, and puts them on as soon as she is out of sight of her village. She knows that her fragile build could blow all of this up, but she hopes that anyone of her people or Tristan’s who could still linger at the fight site are too exhausted to pay much attention now, after the hassle of the battle.

Naia smells the odor of burned wood from far away and lets herself guide to the Sky Children’s village by it. And it doesn’t take long before she sees it. She stops running, the fallen leaves crunching underneath her shoes.

A large area of the forest around the metal case in which the kids came down from the sky is fried, burned black, and ashes whirl through the air. Everything is quiet.

Wait, not quite.

She hears a low-pitches voice and follows it until she sees who’s talking.

And thank the spirits she’s hiding behind a tree, because she slumps heavily against it as soon as she recognizes the face of the other person who’s with the man with the deep voice.

It’s John, his legs stretched out before him, shackled to a tree, his face covered with blood. And now Naia’s relieved she took the Grounder gear with her.

She heads out from her cover and Murphy’s head snaps to her right away. The man watching him turns around then.

“Chon yu bilaik4?” he growls, but Naia keeps her head up, walking down the slope until she stands in front of the man who is so much taller than her. “Chit yu gaf raun5?”

“Ai repla yu6.”

“Yu?” The man laughs.

“Sha7,” Naia replies unimpressed, and she can see it in the man’s eyes that he is tired. She holds her head up high as she continues. “Yu beda go. Ai na jak ker em op.8”

The man eyes her for a few seconds, but Naia stands her ground. Finally, he sighs and turns around. Naia follows him. They come to a halt next to Murphy and the man turns to her again.

“Blika au9.”

She nods once and it seems to satisfy him, and he walks away. Naia gazes after him until she can no longer see him. She takes down the mask and kneels down next to Murphy. He squirms away from her.

“Hey,” Naia says softly and looks at him. He watches her cautiously. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She holds her hands up before she moves her right hand slowly to her dagger. Murphy still squirms. And she can totally understand. She would too if she would be him.

Just before Naia wants to pull her weapon out of its sheath, she notices the blood drenching Murphy’s pants just above the knee. She inspects the wound alarmed.

“What happened?” she asks, looking up at him again.

“The hell do you care?” he spits back. Naia pauses for a moment.

“Don’t provoke me, John of the Sky People,” she responds and reaches for her dagger. Murphy wriggles, and it’s like Naia senses that he plans to kick her, so she puts all of her weight onto his legs. “We need to reduce the blood flow,” she says restrained, pulling her dagger out. Her clothes are made from thick wool, so she can’t cut a strip from them. She eyes Murphy’s shirt. “Hold still.”

She leans over and cuts off a long strip of fabric. She then kneels down next to Murphy’s injured leg and wraps the cloth around his leg right above the wound, tying the ends together. When she looks up from her hands, she finds John looking at her with disbelieve.

“Why are you helping me?” he asks and Naia smiles at him for a split second.

“Because nobody’s fundamentally evil, I think.” She then picks up her dagger again and moves over to the rope chaining Murphy to the tree. She cuts it loose with one swift move.

Murphy first scrambles, then, as soon as he gets to his feet, stumbles away from her. Naia stands up and watches him, her dagger still in her hand.

“John?” she calls out, and he turns around to her, stopping in his tracks. “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 Who are you?  
> 5 What are you searching here? = What are you doing here?  
> 6 I replace you.  
> 7 Yes.  
> 8 You should go. I will take care of him.  
> 9 Eyes sharp.
> 
> Thanks thanks thaaaaaanks a lot for reading. As always, comments and kudos give me life and brighten up my day enormously, so please, feel free to leave them! Stay turned for the next chapter! (✿◠‿◠)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here goes another one :3 First of, the POV changed to Murphy for this chapter, just so you know. I though it'd be interesting to see the story develop through Murphy's eyes for once, especially in this chapter. Be prepared, it's 2x05.  
> Also, please ignore the co-author I added, that was a mistake and AO3 doesn't let you delete them on your own ò.ó The real co-author is Isabel (that's why), jaycee374 on tumblr!   
> Proofread, but not beta'd.

“Parting, such sweet sorrow, right?” Murphy says, following Finn.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Bellamy then calls out and Murphy stops, turning around.

“Come on Bellamy. You know if I go with you they’ll just lock me up again.” He eyes the older boy and almost double-takes when Bellamy bends over and picks up his gun, throwing it over to him. He catches it with ease.

“Really?” he hears Octavia say and he almost cares enough to look up and throw her an annoyed glance. Almost.

“Watch his back,” Bellamy says, ignoring his sister, and Murphy nods before he takes off after Finn who’s already out of sight.

*

It starts drizzling when they are halfway at the village. It’s that kind of rain that creeps under your clothes and soaks up your skin. It’s disgusting.

The two boys sneak through the woods without talking, without making almost any sound at all, only pointing in this or that direction. An hour later, they start hearing chatter, footsteps, the crackling of busy people. And it doesn’t take them more than ten minutes before they hide behind a row of trees, their rifles at the ready. They inspect the village through the visor.

“I count 26,” Finn says.

“I got 28,” Murphy responds. He lowers his weapon. “These people don’t look like warriors, Finn,” he points out, but Finn doesn’t even look over at him. Murphy rolls his eyes. “And there's kids. Old people. There's nothing big enough here to hold our friends.”

“They could be underground,” Finn deadpans and really? Murphy looks at him with an expression of utter disbelieve. “We wait ‘till dark. Then we go in.”

“We go in? Finn, we don’t even know if our people are here yet!” Murphy hushes annoyed. If anyone has a reason to hate those Grounders, it’s him, but Finn brings this ridiculousness to a whole new level.

“They’re here.” All Murphy wants to do at this point is to stand up and knock Finn over with his rifle. But he contains himself. “Or they were when that Grounder took Clarke's watch.”

“What if we're too late, huh?” Murphy asks in an attempt to bring Finn to his senses. “They're probably already dead. We need to...”

Finn lowers his rifle and shoves Murphy.

“Take it easy,” Murphy says and the other boy takes his hand off him. Finn then inspects the village for a second before he looks over at Murphy again.

“How much ammo do we have?”

“I think I liked you better as a peacemaker,” Murphy replies annoyed, not answering Finn’s question. Murphy’s not for blowing innocent people’s brains out.

*

Darkness falls around them and the rain ends. When the bustling in the village stops and all of the people vanish into their makeshift houses, Finn stands up and tip-toes into the village. Murphy follows him, rifle still at the ready.

Suddenly, Finn grabs one of the torches standing all over the village. Murphy rounds Finn alarmed, trying to stop him.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, keen not to wake up any of the Grounders. “This wasn’t part of your plan!”

“We’re changing the plan,” Finn says emotionless. He rushes past Murphy who looks around him one last time before he follows the other boy who comes to a halt in front of a nearby building. “This is their food.”

Finn throws the torch through an opening and the two run away. Mere moments later, the smoke house already ablaze, they hear a woman shout “Triga” repeatedly, something that must mean fire, Murphy figures. Then the same woman rings a bell.

In a matter of seconds, the village is filled with people scooping water out of a well, trying to put out the fire, but it has already taken over the complete building.

“Distraction? Not bad,” Murphy says to Finn where they are hiding behind metal boxes. It’s not like the Grounders haven’t lived here for 97 years and know how to hunt. They’ll be ok.

“Let’s go,” Finn then says and Murphy follows.

They sneak around the village, keeping behind the backside of the houses until they find a deserted alley. They walk down it and hide behind an old car door then. They can’t wait any longer.

The two boys give up their hiding and go into the crossing way, but suddenly, a voice behind them makes them stop.

“Truda!” an old man shouts, and Murphy quickly knocks the man down with his rifle. He doesn’t waste time, turns around and runs past Finn. When the other boy doesn’t follow, he stops.

“We need to run!” he shouts, not really caring if the Grounders will hear them. If they didn’t hear the man’s call, they won’t hear them either.

“Can’t,” Finn responds and Murphy really really wants to slap some common sense into him. “They’ll kill our people!”

“They’ll kill  _us_!” Murphy doesn’t know what else would get Finn to leave. But it’s no use. Instead, Finn grabs the old man by the back of his collar, yanks him up and drags him to the middle of the village. He fires a shot into the air. The people gathered by the still burning smoke house scream. Murphy keeps up. He told Bellamy he’d have an eye on Finn, after all.

“Who’s in charge here?” Finn shouts and Murphy looks over at him, not lowering his rifle. He could tell from the first second they reached the village that their friends weren’t here, and he wonders what makes Finn still think that they  _are_  here.

When nobody answers Finn’s question, he pushes the man he’s holding at gunpoint down.

“I ask you again. Who’s in charge?”

A man steps forward from the middle of the crowd. As he comes nearer, Finn points his rifle at him instead of at the man on his knees in front of him. The villagers scream, but the man who stepped forward tells them to “chill”, or at least that’s what it sounds like. Murphy eyes the rest of the people, making sure none of them run away, to get weapons or who knows what.

“Our leader isn’t here. You can deal with me,” the man then says with a deep, rough voice.

“Nobody has to get hurt. We just want our people back,” Finn explains

“We don't have your people,” the Grounder responds, eyeing them cautiously.

“Then you won't mind if we look around,” Finn then says before he pushes the old man away from him, towards the other Grounder.

*

They shoves the villagers into an enclosed area in the middle of the village before Finn takes off to search through the village, which is bigger than at first glance. The ways between the houses are highly branched and the sun is already up for an half-hour before Finn even comes into view again. Murphy volunteered to keep watch over the Grounders, and only when the first sunrays make it easier to see does he take a proper look at the people. And he was right: these are no warriors. The majority are elders, children, teens or women, and only a few men amidst them. He looks through row after row of terrified faces until he locks eyes with a girl in the last row.

Dreads. And not a trace of fear in her face. She looks right back at him and that’s when it clicks.

He remembers when he was tied to a tree after the big fight. She extemporarily bandaged his knife wound, cut him loose and let him go. He wonders who she is.

Suddenly, Finn storms back into view and into a house. It seems to be empty because he runs out of it and right into another one. The Grounders and Murphy follow Finn with their eyes.

That’s when a boy in the first row, maybe a year younger than Murphy, looks at him with a determined look. None of the other Grounders dare to look at him straightly like this (except the leader and the mysterious girl at the back). Murphy eyes him for a second before he decides to see what Finn’s doing. He walks a few steps when he hears the rough voice of the leader, saying something in the Grounder language. Murphy stops and looks over at them, not yet raising his rifle.

“I told you, we don’t have your people,” the leader says.

“Stop talking,” Murphy responds. The sooner Finn finishes searching through the houses, and the less these people speak, giving neither of them an opportunity to hurt them, the sooner they can get away from here. Murphy looks around to find Finn standing at the edge of one makeshift house, slowly stepping nearer. “Found something?” he shouts.

Finn doesn’t react in any way, not showing that he as much as heard Murphy.

“Finn!” Murphy points his rifle at the people because he can’t look at them and over at Finn at the same time. “FINN! Answer me!” He takes a few steps back to have a better look at the other boy. “Are you alright?”

All of a sudden, the Grounder teen with the determined look springs up, but the leader already grabs him by his clothes and tries to pull him down.

“Hey, on your knees! On your knees, now!” Murphy yells, back in front of the boy and his rifle pointing right at his face, the volume draining out the shaking in his voice. The leaders says something in Grounder again, and Murphy yells “On your knees” for good measure again. Murphy then calls for Finn again.

Then, the other boy comes running back, something that looks suspiciously like one of the hundred’s jackets in one hand, a wild look on his face.

“Slow down,” Murphy tries, but all hope seems to be lost. Finn has gone nuts.

“What have you done to them?” Finn asks, shoving the jacket into the leader’s face. That’s enough.

“Hey Finn, Finn! Come on!”

“Their clothes are here!” Finn shouts with cold eyes. “They were here!”

Murphy looks helplessly at his friend. Then over at the Grounders. Was he wrong after all?

“You killed them!” Finn then shouts again and shoves his rifle right into the leader’s face so that he has to lean back if he doesn’t what the nozzle to press against his forehead.

“Your friends were not here,” the leader responds calmly, but Finn jumps over the fence mindlessly. The villagers murmur and scream again, but their leader manages to calm them down. Murphy still points his gun at them when all he wants to do is get away from here. But he can’t. Not without Finn. “I saw one. Octavia. She was alone.”

Even then, Finn doesn’t calm down, or lowers his rifle, or steps back over the fence. Murphy tries to make Finn come to his senses again.

“These people are scavengers, Finn. They could've just found that stuff.”

Unexpectedly, Finn takes his rifle out of the Grounder’s face, and Murphy wants to sigh with relieve, when Finn shoves the woman who kneels next to the leader down forcefully.

“Fuck!” Murphy curses. “Hey, Finn, stop! Stop! Look at me!” he yells, grabbing Finn by his jacket to pull him away. This is sick.

“Get off me!” Finn calls back without even looking at him and pushes the woman down into the mud with his feet on her back, his rifle pointed at her head. The other villagers scream again and Murphy hopes that all of this is just a bad dream.

“Finn, don’t do this,” Murphy says in an attempt, yet again, to get them to leave. Everyone’s eyes are trained on Finn. “Let's just walk out of here while we still can, ok?”

Finn’s eyes are locked on the woman on the ground, and Murphy wants to punch him. But the risk of Finn snapping (more than he already did) and starting to shoot around is too great.

“Finn.” He’s lost for words. “Please,” he begs one last time.

And finally,  _finally_ , Finn draws a heavy breath and takes his foot off the woman and a step back.

That’s when she catches his eye again. And Murphy allows himself to get lost in her eyes for just a second. He's glad he managed to turn this situation around.

*

“Look, just because their clothes are here doesn’t mean anything,” Murphy explains.

“He told us our friends were here. Why would he do that?”

“The guy with one eye? Maybe because you had a gun to his head, Finn.” Murphy can’t keep the sarcasm in.

“You saw Delano,” the leader then speaks up and Finn and Murphy look over at him. The Grounder holds up his hands in defense and slowly stands up. Finn already points his rifle at him again. “A snake. A thief. He and his men were cast out. You are his revenge.”

“It makes sense,” Murphy agrees. His gut instinct is usually right, and now it is clear that he was right from the beginning. “Finn. Okay, we need to go.”

He turns around, animating Finn to follow him, and after a long moment, Finn tears his eyes away from the Grounders and turns around, trotting after Murphy.

But then one of the elders escapes the enclosed area, the villagers mumbling and shouting, and Finn turns around and starts shooting. Murphy tries to pull Finn away, anything, to make him stop, but the elder already stumbles to the ground, red patches appearing on his clothes. Finn steps towards the lifeless body like he can’t believe what just happened.

The grounder’s leader is standing now, leaning onto the fence.

“He was just trying to get away!” he says accusingly and Murphy finds himself agreeing.

“Come on,” Murphy whispers, his throat dry, and he nudges Finn. But in the blink of an eye, the boy who tried to escape earlier stands up and jumps over the fence, trying to run away. And Finn’s rifle is already spitting out bullet after bullet.

“Finn!” Murphy cries, but he knows it’s no use anymore. The body of the boy falls to the ground, blood pouring from between his lips, and the villagers inside the fence are revolting, trying to get away, but the leader holds them back with outstretched arms. “Finn, we need to go! Look at me!” He almost slaps Finn who just stares at the Grounder’s with empty eyes, while the leader still holds his people back. “We need to go, now!”

And then another Grounder flees, bullet after bullet burying themselves into his flesh.

“Finn, stop!” Murphy contemplates shooting Finn so he’d just stop this madness, but as he keeps screaming his friend’s name, another Grounder falls.

And another. And another. And another.

Murphy tries to grab Finn again, to pull him away, but it’s no use.

And another and another and another and another. Murphy stops counting.

“Finn, come on, we  _need_  to get away!”

And suddenly Finn stops shooting.

Bellamy, Octavia and Clarke appear between the trees behind the fenced area.

Finn lets the rifle drop to his side, staring at the three of them like they are ghosts.

Octavia comes running and stops next to the boy’s body. And slowly, Clarke and Bellamy follow with horrid expressions.

Murphy’s knees threaten to give away under his knees at the view before him. He counts 18 bodies.

Eighteen lives. Gone.

Suddenly, his head snaps up and he searches for a certain face. And he finds it.

She’s not dead. And Murphy feels bad for it, but he’s relieved. If he could have saved one person in this village, it would have been her. And he knits his eyebrows as he asks himself where this thought comes from, but then he sees the silent tears gushing down the girl’s cheeks.

This is a nightmare. Except it isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY thanks for reading this :33 The comments on the last chapter made my day so please feel free to leave kudos and comments if you liked this chapted. More will come soon! Stay tuned :333


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first off I am sorry this took so long. I really struggled to write a big part of this. BUT it's a long chapter and I really hope this makes up for it!  
> Beta'd by the-burning-ones on tumblr, a thousand thanks for that!  
> Also I think I have to inform you that this chapter has practically no Murphy in it at all, despite its length, but this chapter is really really important. So I hope you forgive me the lack of Murphy-ness. But I got a surprise for you in the notes at the end.

It’s reality. Harsh, painful reality.

Naia sinks against the fence behind her, her eyes fixed on the body of Artigas. She hears the cries and sobs of her people around her, but she can’t move. Her legs give away underneath her, even though she’s already kneeling, and she slumps down onto her butt. The mud soaks through her pants, but Naia doesn’t move.

She stares at her best friend’s lifeless form for too long. She knows it’s too long. She knows it the moment Nyko picks him up in his arms and carries him away.

How is this happening?

The sun is down when finally, her mother kneels down at her side. Naia manages to look up at her.

“Get inside, Naia. It’s getting cold.”

The girl nods, not really taking the words in, and is pulled to her feet by her mother.

She didn’t feel the cold seeping into her bones outside, but as soon as she is inside and sitting down on her bed, the warmth un-numbs her skin, her fingers and her feet. And Naia hears her mother rummaging in the room next door, but her mind still lingers on at what happened outside.

*

When Naia wakes up in the morning, her lashes are clotted with dried tears. She can’t remember if she dreamt anything, but she’s glad that this night was filled with a black void.

She peels the fur off of her and heads over to her small pile of clothes. She keeps her pants on and slips into her knee high boots. She then finds what she is looking for.

Naia pulls a black, roughly knitted pullover and a fitting, heavy jacket from the stack. She unfolds them on her bed. These clothes were a gift from her grandmother for “special occasions”, as she used to call it. Inside the jacket are also heavy gloves and a belt. She puts all of it on, securing the belt around her hips and then, finally, attaching her dagger to it. It used to be her father’s.

She heads out of her room and her mother looks up from where she’s working at a table at one side of the room. She immediately puts down her work and heads over to Naia.

“Look at you!” she exclaims, but Naia just looks at her mother, her jaw set.

“Is Indra back yet?” She doesn’t have the patience to waste time.

“Indra? Yes, but w…”

Naia heads outside. She doesn’t need to hear anything else. Her stomach is twisted with fury - fury towards the Sky People. She doesn’t care what she thought before, these right here were her people, her friends, her family. All she has ever known.

And now they are dead, and so is the flame that once fueled her kind heart. Now, Naia’s inside is burning with deathly rage.

Naia heads over to the leader’s hut. She eyes the two guards standing beside the door until one of them nods. She heads inside.

“Naia,” Indra says with the slightest hint of disgusts as she sees her. She orders Naia to step closer with a simple gesture. “Chit yu gaf10?”

Naia puts her hand on her dagger attached to her belt.

“I want to become a proper warrior,” Naia says in her people’s language and eyes her leader precisely.

“Because your best friend is dead?” It’s obvious Indra is mocking her.

“No… because half our village was slaughtered.”

“Is your intention pure?” Indra asks then, standing up from her seat and stepping closer so they are almost nose to nose.

“Yes,” Naia agrees without flinching. “I want to see the Sky People bleed.” And it is true. She wants to rip them limb from limb. She wants them to feel what she feels.

Indra inspects her for a minute. Naia stands her ground. Then, finally, Indra nods.

“Training begins now. Report to Penn. Let’s see if you are strong enough.”

Naia nods and turns around. She knows that Indra just waits for her to get her ass kicked, but she will try her best.

She crosses the village until she comes to the open space used for the warrior training. She sees Penn standing at the side, watching two men fighting. She steps nearer and Penn looks over to her.

“Are you lost, little girl?” he asks, and the men standing beside him laugh. Naia grits her teeth for a second.

“Indra allowed me to train with you.”

“You?” Penn looks at the warriors around him who still grin before he looks at her again. The two men fighting in the middle stop to see what the disruption is about. And Naia knows that despite the heavy jacket she wears, she’s at least a head smaller than most of the men. And there’s only one other woman, but the grim look on her face tells Naia that she won’t stick up for her.

“Yes,” Naia responds. “The Sky People need to bleed. I’m here to make sure they do, and if I’m the last one standing to fight.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be the last one,” one of the other warriors says and laughs. Naia storms towards him, drawing her dagger and holding it against his throat.

“Do you think this is a joke?” she hisses.

But in a second, she lays flat on her back, the dagger against her own throat, the man looming over her.

“No. Do you?”

“No,” Naia spits back. She’s sure about this.

“Enough,” Penn then says and the warrior pinning Naia down lifts his weight from her. She stands up and snatches her dagger back. Penn steps in front of her. “Never attack another warrior again, or you will wish you were never born.” Naia nods. What else is she supposed to do? She knows it’s her temper acting all weird because she lost Artigas, but in battle, you can’t allow that. “Did you fight before?”

“Yes. Together with… Artigas.” She swallows down her pain. There’s no room for it now.

“Good,” Penn says without any trace of emotion. “Let’s see it.” He gestures for her to step into the middle.

Naia eyes the spot with hesitation, but her legs suddenly move without her telling them to. The two other warriors fighting before make space for her and step aside.

“Echo, make her regret this,” Penn orders, and the woman amongst the warriors steps forward. Naia holds her dagger before her. The woman draws a short sword from a sheath at her side as she steps in front of Naia. The two of them circle each other for a second before Naia starts her first attack. She plunges forward, her dagger aimed for the other woman’s arm. It’s about defeating, not putting someone out of action.

She misses.

Instead Naia takes a blow to her back, making her topple over. She quickly raises to her feet, ducking away under Echo’s sword, rounding the woman and kneeing her into the back of the knee. But Echo turns around as she falls, swinging her sword, and it comes dangerously close to Naia’s chest. Naia leans back and in the time it takes her to steady her footing, Echo is on her feet again and kicks her into the stomach.

Naia falls onto her back, all the air gone from her lungs, her middle aching. She sees Echo grinning down at her.

“’s that all you got?” she wheezes as she pulls herself up, not taking her eyes off the woman. Naia heads forwards again, her dagger connecting with Echo’s shoulder and the woman screams. Naia lashes out again, but Echo catches her wrist, bending her arm backwards. The dagger falls from her grip.

“Not so brave anymore, eh?” Echo hisses and suddenly, Naia finds the strength to fight back. She lands a blow on Echo’s nose and winds her wrist out of the woman’s grip. She picks up her dagger, but then another kick makes her stomach clench. But her knees don’t buckle. Naia sinks her fingers into Echo’s jacket and she throws her to the ground. She hears the sword landing in the leaves with a soft thud. That’s when a fist connects with her bottom lip, and Naia tries to fight back. She’s still on top, but with another blow to her temple, her muscles slacken for a moment and Echo uses the opportunity to throw Naia off of herself.

Echo straddles her, the sword suddenly in her hand again, and she holds the tip against Naia’s throat.

Naia tastes blood, breathing heavily. Then, Echo stands up and Naia follows. Her knees are wobbly, but she doesn’t let it show.

“I’m not impressed,” Penn says as she steps in front of him. “But you attacked first. It shows you have courage. Do you still want to become a warrior, Little Girl?”

Naia’s licks her split lip with her tongue, the burn satisfying her.

“I told you this is no joke to me.” She swallows the blood collecting in her mouth.

“Then so be it.”

Naia smiles. She made it.

*

She watches the others fight for another hour before they disperse, and Naia heads back to her hut. She goes inside, her mind lingering on her fight, what she could have done better, how she could have won.

“By the spirits, what happened to you?” Her mother stops her in her tracks, inspecting her bruised face. When she tries to trace her thumb over Naia’s split lip, the girl slaps her mother’s hand away.

“It’s none of your damn business!” she booms. Her mother recoils. Naia stomps past her, to the table her mother worked on, and grabs a strip of dried meat. She heads outside again.

Naia chews on the meat as she wanders through the village, her mind somewhere else. It’s not long before she finds herself at the training spot again. She decides to wait for the others to come back.

“Not enough yet, Little Girl?” the warrior whose name is Fio, Naia learned, mocks her as he comes back to the area with several of the other warriors in tow. Naia pushes herself away from the tree she leaned against.

“Far from enough,” Naia responds. That’s when Indra and Penn, side by side, appear from behind a hut, walking towards them. Naia freezes.

“I heard you survived your first fight,” Indra says when she doesn’t have to shout to be heard. “But I want to see it for myself.” Indra stands with stilted legs, her arms crossed.

Penn steps in front of Naia, looking at her down his nose.

“I won’t be gentle,” he warns her.

“You don’t need to be,” Naia responds. She can only learn to become a real warrior if she doesn’t shun away from fighting. Losing, if it comes to that. Penn takes two steps away, drawing his sword. Naia does the same with her dagger.

“Fight!” Indra orders.

Naia lashes out, her dagger immediately connecting with Penn’s arm raised in defense. She doesn’t even cut through the fabric of his jacket. But Naia quickly draws back, barely dodging Penn’s sword, ducking, trying to kick at Penn’s shin to knock his feet away from under him. Instead, Penn grabs her by her hair and pulls her up, putting his sword against her throat. Naia wriggles, but Penn’s grip on her is too tight.

“Again,” Indra bellows, and the other warrior lets her go.

So they fight again. And again. And another time.

And Naia gets her ass beaten every time. Additional to her split lip she now also sports a split eyebrow, a black eye and more contusions than she can count. She leans against a tree, drawing in a deep breath after Indra decides that it is enough.

“You’re more persistent than I thought,” Penn says before he inspects a cut she managed to inflict on him during the last fight. She knows it’s not deep, but it’s a start. Naia looks up at him, and he nods at her once.

“Go lick your wounds, Naia,” Indra then says and Naia looks over to her.

“I can go on!” she starts to protest, but Indra shuts her up.

“I know when it is enough. You will get enough opportunities to fight tomorrow. Go.”

Naia clenches her teeth, pocketing her dagger, just so that her hands are occupied. Indra stares at her until she walks away.

She crosses her village, and she notices a change in the way her people look at her. She remembers the disgust in their eyes when it was brought to light that she repeatedly sneaked into the air vent of the train station to watch John. But now they look at her with awe.

Naia holds her chin up high as she heads towards the water supply to wash the grime and blood from her skin.

*

Over the next few days, Naia’s muscles protest with every move she makes, her mouth often filled with the taste of blood, whether it be because her lip’s split again or just because she gnaws on the insides of her cheeks constantly. Her anger doesn’t go away. Not when she fights (especially not when she fights), not when she sleeps, not when she eats. But first and foremost not because she always sees the Sky People’s clothes hanging at the side of one of the huts (she may or may not shredded one of the jackets to bits before she could think clearly again).

It’s on the evening two days later, Naia sitting next to Penn at a campfire, eating a highly needed meal, that shouts fill the village.

“Open the gate!” people shout. Naia springs to her feet and heads over to the gate.

“Indra!” Naia calls along with others, and their leader is by her side mere seconds later. The gate is then pulled open and Naia and the other warriors stand along its sides, their weapons drawn.

But it’s another warrior. He isn’t from their village, but his attire reveals that he is one of the Trigedakru.

“Message from the Commander!” he exclaims, the words slightly muffled by his mask. He then pulls it down as the gate is shut behind him and people gather around. Indra steps forward. “We will attack the Sky People’s village on the morning of the third day. Their actions demand revenge. Blood must have blood!”

“Jus drein jus draun11!” the villagers respond, and Naia tunes in. She pumps her fist in the air. Finally they will get revenge.

“All warriors will accompany the village’s leader on the morning of the second day.”

“Jud drein jus draun!” the villagers chant again and Naia’s eyes light up. This is her chance.

She waits until the messenger leaves their village before she heads over to Indra.

“No,” Indra says calmly before Naia can even open her mouth. She knits her brows.

“But…”

“No,” Indra repeats slowly. The two of them stare at each other, the muscles in Naia’s jaw working tirelessly. Her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands. And then Indra turns away.

“Indra, loka ai12!” Naia yells, and Indra’s head snaps to the side and the leader eyes her over her shoulder. “Ai so laik guna13!”

Naia feels her heart beat in her chest and the eyes of the villagers around on her, but she needs to settle this.

“Yu so no guna14,” Indra drawls, a mocking smile on her lips, as she turns around and walks towards Naia. “Not until you won a fight.”

“So I will win a fight tomorrow!” Naia retorts. She doesn’t care about the challenge. Being there when the Sky People receive their just punishment is all that counts.

Indra looks at her again before she finally nods. She’s not someone who isn’t up for a good fight, might she be involved in it or not. Then she walks away.

“We won’t be easy on you tomorrow because of this,” Penn says to her when he stops beside her.

“I know. I don’t want you to.”

*

Naia goes to bed early. Her mother avoids her, too often did Naia yell at her the last days. But as she finds herself lying in bed, closing her eyes to let the sleep wash over her, she can’t seem to drift over into it. Her mind is running.

What if she doesn’t manage to win tomorrow? What if she can’t, and she’s left here, with all her pent-up anger and nothing to take her mind off things?

Naia pulls the fur tighter around herself and screws her eyes shut. She needs to sleep. She has to win a fight tomorrow.

*

Naia slept three hours at most. The dark circles underneath her eyes are the best indicator. But her muscles aren’t as sore anymore as they were a few days ago and she gets herself an ample breakfast to regain her strength.

Once finished, Naia pulls on her jacket and fastens her belt, attaching her dagger. Her shoes are crusted with dirt, the once light brown leather smeared with mud. She pulls her hair up into a loose ponytail as much as her dreads allow and heads outside.

Indra already waits at the training spot when Naia arrives, following Echo and Fio. They wait for Penn and the other warriors to arrive. It doesn’t take long.

“Today you will train without weapons,” Indra announces. It’s not unusual to do that because sometimes neither of those involved in a fight carry a weapon. “Naia, Echo, you’re first.”

Naia steps into the middle without hesitation. It’s early in the day and she still has all her strength, and if she will be able to overcome Echo, she won’t have to worry about it the rest of the day.

But the luck isn’t on her side. Naia lands a few effective blows in the first minutes, but after that, Echo prevails. A punch to her solar plexus blows the air out of Naia’s lunges and she stumbles to her knees, and a kick to her jaw sends her toppling over onto her back. By then, Echo has her knee on her windpipe, pushing down just enough to make it hard for Naia to breath.

“Pathetic,” Naia can hear Indra whisper as she heaves heavy breaths and comes to her feet. She steps to the side.

So much for winning.

Naia watches the others fight until it is her turn again. She’s paired with Penn.

They step before one another, fists raised.

“I won’t be easy on you,” Penn reminds her, and Naia raises her chin before she nods.

Penn’s first punch misses. Naia often trained like this with Artigas, but the two of them were of similar build and neither of them had a disadvantage. That’s different now. But she remembers a few tips Artigas gave her.

She ducks away under the next blow, using her petite build (petite in contrast to Penn) to be light and quick on her feet. And Naia knows that there’s just one way to win this fight.

Naia manages to block and parry the few next punches before she makes her first move. She kicks and feels her shin connect with Penn’s knee. But it doesn’t have the desired effect. Instead, Penn throws her to the ground and she chokes on the air leaving her lungs. Her chest hurts like hell. And Naia doesn’t find enough strength to pick herself up. But she remembers a vital lesson Artigas once taught her. It may not be fair, but what in life is?

When Penn steps close to her, drawing back his foot to kick her so she won’t be able to get up at all, Naia rolls to the side, careful to stay low, and puts all her power into her next punch.

She hits Penn right in the groin. The warrior’s face twists in agony, his knees buckling, and Naia wastes no time to turn herself around on her butt to kick out Penn’s foot from under him. As he slumps to his knees, Naia recovers her foot and lands a blow to the side of Penn’s head. The pain slackens him enough for Naia to push him down and push her knee down on his throat, just like Echo did with her before. She makes sure she pushes hard enough that the lack of oxygen will keep Penn from being strong enough to fight back. Naia feels his hands on her, trying to pull her from his throat, and she contemplates to strike his ears to dizzy him.

Just as she draw back her fist, Indra calls out.

“Hod op15!” Naia looks up at her leader and finds a content look on her face. “Surra op, Naia16.”

The girl lifts her knee from Penn’s windpipe and the warrior coughs. She looks down at him as Indra positions herself in front of Naia.

“You proved your strength and willpower. I was wary of you and your intentions, but you did not back down or shied away from any fight. And you won. I am true to my word. You can come with us to attack the village of the Sky People. But first you need a mark to show you’re one of us.” Naia knows what this means. A tattoo like all of the warriors.

Indra accompanies her. Only with the leaders approval is it possible to get a tattoo.

They find the man doing the tattoos sitting at a campfire and he stands up when he sees them approaching him.

“Indra,” he says respectfully and does a little bow with his head. “What can I do for you?”

“Get her what she wants. She proved herself.” Indra looks over at Naia and the girl can’t help but smile.

“As you wish,” the man says and turns around. Naia follows him. In his hut, she sits down on a stool across his worktable as he shoves a piece of paper and a piece of coal over to her. Naia draws a typical design, but makes it lighter, less heavy, with an abstract pattern filling out the separate swirls. It doesn’t take her long and she shoves the drawing back over to him. He studies it for a moment before he nods.

“Where?”

Naia holds out her right hand to him. The old man takes it and inspects her skin before he nods and fetches his tools. The first pinch of the needle makes Naia flinch, but she gets used to it quickly. She sees her skin fill with black ink as her mind wanders.

She won. She won against Penn, moreover. Someone who’s taller, and stronger, and older than her. Then why does it feel so meaningless?

The pain of the tattoo numbs her hand, the pain only a dull throbbing. She watches the needle pinch her skin, burying the black pigments in it. She wishes Artigas was by her side.

*

Early the next morning, the sun not up yet but already turning the velvet blue of the sky to a faint orange, the warriors gather at the gate, Indra standing in the middle of them. Everyone checks their weapons. Not much later and they hear the footsteps and low murmurs of the approaching army. And Naia knows that it is. Her tribe has never been one to not show their full capacities.

And she isn’t disappointed when they open the gate to join the other warriors. The line stretches endlessly. Warriors on foot, on horses, and horses pulling carriages with provisions and tents wander past the gate and the few of them get in line at the end. The march to the village of the Sky People is going to take all day.

The land around them is quiet for most of the day, but as they near Mount Weather, the crowd gets eerily silent. They all know the threats. Naia keeps her hand on her dagger out of precaution.

But they round and pass Mount Weather without the acid fog or the Reapers turning up. So they trod on.

They are a few hours from the Sky People’s village when the procession comes to a halt. They haven’t eaten all day and most of their stomachs are grumblings. Campfires are lit and pieces of dried meat are heated over them. Naia is grateful for the pause. Her feet are hurting and the hunger gnaws at her insides, so she eats as fast as she can.

Suddenly, screams pierce the chatter and Naia turns around to it. Her eyes widen in shock. A group of Reapers approach them, fast. Naia draws her dagger as Penn steps next to her.

The two groups clash and it’s all a blur of limbs and fur and metal, blood splashing here and there, and Naia manages to cut off three fingers of one of the Reapers.

Right before he grabs Echo.

She struggles, but her sword is laying on the ground, and other Reapers are defending the one holding Echo and Naia and the other warriors are unable to take them down. They can just fight them back in hope of them not taking anyone else.

Other warriors come to their aid, but by then, Echo is already out of sight.

Only when Indra tells them to come back to the fire and pack up their things does Naia notice that she’s shaking. She tries to put her dagger back into its sheath, but she misses it several times.

Isn’t this what she trained for?

The other warriors eye her as she comes back because it took her a minute to calm herself, but nobody says a word.

And as Naia picks up her bag, she’s not so sure anymore if this was a wise decision.

*

They arrive at the Sky People’s camp – because it isn’t a village, not really – in the pitch black darkness of the night. Faint chatter is carried over to them from the camp and it intensified as the first torches are lit. New one after new one is lit until the whole slope they are standing on is illuminated by their flickering light.

Naia is standing alone with Penn, Fio and the others, far at the side of the crowd, Penn holding the torch. Naia knows that it can’t be long until it dawns but she finds herself dreading it.

Two days ago she had been so sure about this but since she lay in bed that night, worrying, she couldn’t seem to stop thinking. She still hears the gunshots of Finn’s rifle, still sees Nyko carrying away Artigas, still smells the metallic scent of blood in the air. But suddenly she remembers Murphy’s eyes meeting hers, his look so lost. And it feels like her heart starts beating again.

*

Half an hour after the sky starts to lighten up, Naia sees a blonde girl make her way into their camp, and she recognizes her as the one appearing at her village the day of the massacre. She seems to be the leader of the Sky People, the way she holds herself and her chin up, and because she is let into the Commander’s makeshift hut. Not much later can she see the girl head out again from where Naia’s sitting in the grass, and to her surprise the Commander and her guards follow her. They head into the woods, and don’t return for a long time.

Turmoil spreads through the camp as hour after hour pass and there’s no sign of the Commander and her guards coming back.

But they do come back. It’s only a few minutes before the sun sets, but the sky is filled with a mass of grey clouds, so it doesn’t make a difference really. And the Sky Girl is with the Commander again. Naia wonders what it means.

The unrest in the camp increases still and Naia doesn’t know what makes her insides squirm more: the waiting, or the thought of attacking the Sky People’s camp. She tries to distract herself. It works until the Sky Girl exits the Commanders hut and it accompanied back to her camp by two riders. Naia knits her eyebrows.

But word spreads fast in the camp. Obviously the Sky People managed to bring one of their people back from his state as a Reaper, and the Sky Girl offered this ability as the base of a truce. And Naia finds herself exhaling in relief at the news, only then realizing she held her breath all this time. The fact that Finn’s death is the second part of the base of the truce sparks an inner conflict in her. He killed her best friend, and he deserves to die for it. But could violence really be the basis for peace?

Naia falls asleep not long after, exhausted from the march here and the training of the last days. And for the first time since Artigas’ death, she dreams again. She’s kneeling by his side, his skin cold as she holds his hand, and she feels her shoulders shaking. Suddenly, a hand curls around her shoulder and she looks up over her shoulder. She looks into storm cloud grey eyes.

Naia’s startled awake by the other warriors bustling around the tent. She rubs her eyes and finds her lashes full of dried tears again. And suddenly, the air is filled with shouts from all over the camp.

“Jus drein jus draun!”

Naia shouted it too, all these days ago, but now the thought makes her sick. You can’t have peace through murder. But she brings herself to shout it too. She’s here, she wanted to be here in the first place, and what’s more important, Indra still doesn’t fully trust her, despite her words (she never fully trusts anyone). And she isn’t here right now, but Naia can’t risk it to fall out of favor with her leader. Not now that her people are this blood-thirsty. It could be her death.

So she chants along, her stomach twisting up in knots.

*

The day passes and Finn isn’t handed over by the Sky People. Naia hopes they will soon, or otherwise, her people will attack. But maybe she could slip away in the bustle if it came to that…

But shortly after night has fallen, a group of warriors come back to their camp, and Naia can make out Finn amidst them. They came from the woods, so Naia figures that Finn gave himself up. He probably couldn’t see his people die because of what he did, because they wanted to protect him.

It’s not much later that the Sky Girl is walking into their camp again and Naia wonders. She remembers, far at the back of her head, that Finn whispered “I found you” when she turned up at Tondc. And suddenly Naia understands: the Sky Girl loves him.

Finn is brought to a stake and tied to it. Naia knows what will happen to him. Fire, because of the innocent lives he took. Hands, eyes, tongue, knives. She knows it all. If he is still alive after that, the Commander ends his life with her sword when the sun rises.

But everything turns out differently.

She sees the Sky Girl make her way over to Finn after she speaks to Lexa and gasps as she kisses Finn. So Naia was right, she does love him. She can’t hear a word they say, but a minute or two later, the Sky Girl steps away from the boy and Naia is confused. His body is slumped, his head hanging down.

Naia turns to her side, her hands on her knees, vomiting. She hears the angry roars of her people and an agonizing scream from the Sky People’s village as the sickeningly sour scent of her own puke fills her nostrils. Naia heaves, even after all the food in her stomach is gone.

Finn’s death wasn’t revengeful. And Naia doesn’t care that her people are angry. This war made the Sky Girl kill the boy she loves.

*

Naia can’t catch what’s happening then, not fully. She’s sitting in the damp grass, staring off into space. She hopes it looks more like “I’m brooding silently” than “My whole life stands on its head”. Because she should rage like the rest of her people, to keep up the façade. But it has to be good enough.

“Naia,” she’s suddenly called and she raises her head. Indra is standing next to the campfire, looking down at her. Naia knits her eyebrows in confusion, hoping that it can also count as looking angry. “We’re going back to Tondc. You’re allowed to come back to grieve.”

Naia nods. Indra doesn’t move, so she takes it that her leader is waiting for her. She stands up and fetches her bag from the tent and follows Indra then.

The way back to their village is long. Indra rides instead of walking, so Naia doesn’t have to worry that the leader would engage in a conversation with her, which would be a rare thing in itself, but like this, Naia can relax at least a bit. She walks at the far end of the procession, separating herself from the others. When they finally stop to rest when the sun is already down, Naia does the same. She doesn’t stay at the campfire with the others of her people and the Commander and she’s glad because she hears them mutter and rant, and she couldn’t do that. She isn’t a liar, not when it comes to words.

They arrive at Tondc around midday and the bodies of the other victims are already placed around the pyre, and Naia shivers at the sight. Artigas is inside one of the cloths. At least his body is.

Naia watches as Lexa holds her speech and also when she calls the blonde Sky Girl – Clarke – to light up the pyre. She feels Indra tense next to her, but she doesn’t do anything. And as the flames consume what was left of her best friend, Naia cries. She’s not as strong as the rest of her people. Not in a situation like this.

*

She watches the pyre burn down until all that’s left is ashes. She chokes on them, but she doesn’t walk away. Most of the others do, but Clarke and Lexa, the two leaders, stay where they are.

“I lost someone special to me, too,” Naia all of a sudden hears Lexa speak up and she looks over to the commander. She feels that she probably should walk away, that this isn’t meant for her to hear, but she finds herself unable to move her legs. “Her name was Costia. She was captured by the ice nation, whose queen believed she knew my secrets. Because she was mine... they tortured her, killed her, cut off her head.”

Naia’s breathing stutters. Lexa’s voice lacks any emotion.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says and Naia looks down again. She doesn’t want to look like she’s eavesdropping (although this is exactly what she’s doing, technically).

“I thought I'd never get over the pain, but I did,” Lexa continues.

“How?”

“By recognizing it for what it is… weakness.”

“What is? Love?” Clarke asks and Naia looks up again and finds the two leaders looking at each other. Lexa nods. “So you just stopped caring about everyone?” The commander nods again. “I could never do that.”

Naia stares at the Sky People’s leader. And she hears Lexa’s voice, but not the words she says, because her mind is somewhere else.

Because she couldn’t do it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 What do you want?  
> 11 Blood must have blood  
> 12 Indra, look at me!  
> 13 I am a warrior!  
> 14 You are no warrior.  
> 15 Stop.  
> 16 Surrender, Naia
> 
> Oh god I was so happy I finished it when I did. So please leave kudos and comments, they really encourage me to keep on working. Thanks for readings, nuggets!  
> And the surprise iiiiissss: The next chapter will probably be quite fluffy! :3 (and by probably I mean HELL YES IT WILL BE)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naaaaaaaaw first of I am SO sorry it took so long again. But, BUT, it's even longer than the last chapter. Plus you get fluff. I don't wanna spoiler anything else. Happy reading! :3  
> Not beta'd, I will update it as soon as possible, but feel free to point out mistakes!

Naia isn’t allowed at the feast. “You’re still just a girl,” Indra tells her. And Naia finds herself not caring. Yes, she is a girl. And thinking that she was anything else was a big mistake. So she goes to find her mother.

Naia enters her home through the makeshift door and finds her mother sitting at her worktable, as usual. She turns around at the sound.

“You’re back,” her mother says softly as she stands up. Naia looks at her. Takes in her braids, the wrinkles around her eyes, her calloused fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, her throat tight. “I was so goddamn angry. I’m sorry.” Her mother steps in front of her and kisses her on her forehead before looking into her eyes.

“I forgive you,” she whispers and pulls Naia close, cradling her head to her chest. “And I understand.” Naia feels the soft vibrations in her mother’s chest as she speaks. “I felt the same when you’re father was killed. I wanted to kill everyone in sight.”

They stand like this for a few minutes until shouts fill the village. Naia lifts her head alarmed. Her mother takes her hand from the back of her head and the girl steps outside.

A mob of people are bustling outside the train station, one person on the ground, and Naia can make out Nyko, bending down over the person on the ground. Naia contemplates running over for a second, but she knows that she would be of no help and just be in the way.

She can see and hear Lexa discuss with several of the others, including Indra, and it's obvious even from this far away that Indra doesn’t agree with what the commander says. But Lexa seems to shut her up. Then, everyone’s eyes are on Nyko and the man still lying. Naia observes the scene with apprehension.

But it’s not long until the other man sits up and Naia gasps. It was the Commander’s guard. Heated discussion breaks loose once again, and it’s mostly Indra and Lexa cross-talking. But the commander seems to have the upper hand again. She sends Indra, Nyko and three guards back into the train station. Moments later, they re-emerge with a girl of the Sky People. Naia watches in horror as they tie her to the stake in the middle of the village used for punishment.

Warriors are sent to gather the villagers around the stake and not much later, everyone is present. Naia sees the girl on the stake shiver. She has a brace around her leg and Naia wonders what happened.

“This girl tried to kill the Commander,” one of the guards says loud and clearly. “She will pay for it, so we will finally have our just revenge. With her death, the alliance with be dead too.”

Everyone is quiet as Lexa steps in front of the girl.

“I take no joy in this, Raven,” she says. “But this time, justice will be done.”

“I didn't do it. How is that justice?” Raven responds, her face a mixture of fear and anger.

Naia’s gaze is caught by the Sky People at the train station and Naia knits her eyebrows as she watches them and Raven’s first scream cuts through the silence. Why would the Sky People try to kill the Commander?

She remembers that she saw Raven sit on the carriage that carried Finn to Tondc, and she wonders what he had been to her. Was he her brother? A friend? A lover? But why risk the newly established truce? Especially because the Sky People know her people’s ways are far from peaceful.

Indra steps forward, lifting the girl’s shirt and cutting across her belly. Naia squirms internally. Her gut tells her that this girl had nothing to do with it. But villager after villager step forward to slash their knife across Raven’s skin, blood soaking her clothing. Her screams give Naia goosebumps. She hasn’t drawn her dagger yet.

Suddenly, the Sky People’s leader, Clarke, is storming out of the train station.

“I need that bottle, now.” Nyko vanished into his hut to fetch it. “Stop!” Clarke calls then. The man just knifing Raven holds. Lexa tells her guards to let her pass.

Clarke stomps in front of Lexa, her face set.

“One of your people tried to kill you, Lexa, not one of mine.”

Naia’s breathing accelerates.

“You should've run,” Indra hisses and Naia suddenly hates her more than ever before. She hates the way Indra faces everything with anger, disgust and mistrust. How she can never show mercy.

“I can prove it,” Clarke says, and Nyko hands her a bottle. Naia puts two and two together. The bottle was a gift from the Sky People. And the Commander’s first guard always tests her food and drinks for poison.

Clarke takes several large gulps from the bottle and the way everyone else looks at her, Naia figures she was right. And nothing happens.

“Explain,” Lexa’s voice rings through the silence, barely containing the underlying rage.

“The poison wasn't in the bottle. It was in the cup.”

“Spichen17!” the old man still standing next to Raven, holding up his dagger, calls out.

“A trick, Commander,” Gustus says in their tongue. “Do not be fooled.”

“It was you,” the boy next to Clarke then speaks up. “He tested the cup, he searched Raven.”

“Gustus would _never_ harm me,” Lexa retorts and now the rage isn’t underlying anymore.

“You weren't the target. The alliance was,” the boy responds, calmly, and so does Clarke when she adds “We didn't do this, and you know it.”

Naia’s knuckles close around the handle of her dagger, not to draw it, but to have something to hold on to. The Commander turns around to her guard.

“Yu don getinga au, Gustus18,” Lexa then says. “Rona wedia op.19”

The next silent moments electrify the air.

“This alliance would cost you your life, Heda,” Gustus finally says and Naia’s finger lose their grip on her dagger. She _was_ right. “I could not let that happen.”

“This treachery will cost you yours,” Lexa then responds, her voice quiet and ice cold. “Teik em zog raun emo tri20.”

Everyone springs into action then. Three warriors bottle Gustus up while several of the Sky People hurry over to support Raven as another warrior cuts her loose. Naia turns around, leaving the scene. She finds her mother following her like she hoped she would.

Inside their home, Naia turns around and faces her mother who comes inside mere seconds later.

“I can’t,” Naia starts, but doesn’t find the right words to go on immediately. Her mother comes nearer and takes her hands.

“I know you, Naia. Your heart is good.” Honestly, she doesn’t have to say anymore. And Naia realizes that she has it all figured out.

“I’m leaving.”

Her mother smiles understanding and embraces her.

“I knew that day would come,” she whispers into Naia’s hair before she steps back. “I didn’t know it would come this soon, but since you were a little girl, I knew that our people’s ways are too cruel for your kind heart.”

Naia smiles back at her mother, the only family she has ever known.

“Come with me.”

“No,” her mother responds, still smiling, and takes one of Naia’s hands. “I’ve been here my whole life. This is where I want to stay. But I want you to find happiness.” She squeezes Naia’s hand softly. “But I wish you wouldn’t go alone.”

Naia studies her mother’s face once again.

“I won’t be… at least I hope so. There’s a boy…”

“The Sky Boy?” her mother asks, but it isn’t accusing. “But can you trust him? Do you think he will come with you?”

Naia bites her lip.

“I hope so.”

She really does. She knows what she saw in him back then when he was here at the village, and before that when she cut him loose, and before that when her people tortured him.

“I hope the spirits will grant you your wish and will help you on your way,” her mother says and kisses Naia’s temple.

“But where do I go?” she asks. She has never been anywhere but in these woods, and leaving does terrify her.

“East. The Boat Grounders are our ally and were the first to join the union when it was established. They are the most peaceful of the twelve clans. They live at the seacoast. I believe I remember they call themselves ‘Delmava’.”

“Thank you, Nomon21,” Naia says before she hugs her mother one last time. “But I need you to be quiet about this. I need to find out how to get back to the Sky People’s camp to talk to John without being suspicious just yet.”

“Okay. I know I can’t allure you from doing this, so I might as well not endanger your venture.”

And Naia understands why her mother tried to keep her away from John when he was captured: she was scared she might lose Naia to him.

*

Naia paces through the village. The Sky People are already gone. She overhears the others muttering about Gustus’ betrayal, and Naia knows he’s dead. And she knows that she did the same, not solely by deciding to leave the village, but because she wants to take one of the Sky People with her.

The sun is down and she still isn’t sure how she will do it. She would need to take all of her supplies with her if she needs to head to the Delmava clan if she can’t meet with or convince John, but it would be a dangerous thing. It’d be easier to leave now, in the dead of the night, but she’s exhausted, and she needs to rest for once before leaving for good.

Naia stands at a campfire, pondering, when she suddenly hears muffled – and angry – voices out of the train station. Seconds later, the door swings open forcefully and a fuming Indra steps outside.

“Indra!” the Commander’s forceful voice calls after her and the black woman stops, turning around. “Yu na obei ai22,” Lexa adds, her voice as cold as when she told Gustus that he was going to die. “Geda emo guna en kamp raun stegede kom skaikru23!”

The two leaders stare at each other for a few seconds before Indra nods restrained. Naia sees her chance. She steps into the leader’s way.

“Chit yu na ste raun stegede kom skaikru24?” Naia inquires and she saw it coming that Indra wouldn’t react calmly.

“Fighting. The _Sky People_ want to learn from us. But you’re not good enough. You’re not coming with us.” Indra walks around her and Naia turns, her mind racing.

“But I need to get better!” she calls and Indra stops. “You don’t want to let me fight, fine. But if I can’t watch _them_ fight, how am I supposed to learn anything? You don’t need to let me fight myself, but let me watch!”

Indra turns back around and eyes Naia.

“You don’t give up easily, do you?” Indra snarls and the girl just shakes her head. But Indra doesn’t walk away yet. Silence stretches between them. Finally, Indra takes a deep, annoyed breath. “You can come with us. But only because the Commander would approve of your courage.” With that, she walks away.

And Naia finally has a plan how she can talk to Murphy.

*

Early the next morning, the sun not up yet, the warriors of Tondc and several of the Commander’s squad are gathering around the gate. Naia is glad they are leaving now instead of immediately the last night. Like that, she could have a good night’s sleep and talk with her mother about the Delmava Clan again. And she feels ready – the kind of ready you can be when you decide to leave your old life and everything you know behind.

They use several horses and carriages to bridge the way to the Sky People’s camp faster. Naia sits in a carriage with two of the younger warriors of her village and several of the Commander’s warriors. They arrive at the Sky People’s camp – Camp Jaha, as a big sign over their gate tells them – a few hours after noon. They leave the horses and carriages behind at the edge of the forest and march the last hundred meters to the gate.

“Open the gate!” a voice from inside the palisade yells as they come to a halt in front of it, and a buzzing rings out. The gate is pulled open. 

The group gets into motion with a start, cautiously crossing the border to the camp. Heavily armed and padded guards stand left and right on their way and the metal form of the space station which brought the Sky People here is rising up before them. The gravel is crunching under their feet and Naia sees the Sky People around eying them.

“Milla op, blika au25,” Indra growls. “Misa, osir bilaik emo thauzend guna kamp raun tri raun26.“

Naia sees the warriors around her grab their weapons harder but she doesn’t put her hand on her dagger. After all, _she_ didn’t come here to fight – only to appear as if she was.

They reach the entrance of the space station – her mother told her about the term last night – and Indra stops, standing face to face with a man of the Sky People who was also there when they burned the bodies.

“Moni27,” he says. “I thought we’d start with a reception. Then move on to training. We have a lot to learn from each other. Weapons there please.” He points at a large basin to Indra’s left and steps out of her way. Indra makes no move to put her weapons in it. “Only our guards are armed around here,” the man then adds.

Eventually, Indra pulls her sword from the sheath and throws it into the basin. Her dagger follows. The Sky man then makes a welcoming gesture for Indra to step inside. Naia can’t help but admire his calm. After all the two groups have been through, the fights and the arguments and the deaths, he still welcomes them into his camp and treats Indra, one of the most vicious persons Naia knows, with respect and courtesy.

When Indra starts walking, the other warriors follow her example and throw their knives, daggers, swords and spears in or around the basin. Naia pulls out her dagger and throws it thereto, following the other warriors. One after one, they enter the inside of the space station.

They walk through a low-ceilinged hallway, cables and tubes hanging from the ceiling and along the walls. The only people they pass are guards and Naia wonders if she will have to search for Murphy later on. But then they reach a hall, filled with Sky People, and when the scramble at the entrance dies away, Naia searches the room. She finds John sitting by himself in one corner of the room, a metal cup in his hand. She heads over in his direction as much as she can without looking like she’s separating herself from her people.

“Alright. Quiet down,” the Sky Man says and Naia senses that this isn’t the first time that he has been in charge. “Indra, please.” He motions for her to step into the middle of the room and she does, but her body language shows clearly how much she detests it to be given orders by a Sky Person, as polite as they may be worded. They two leaders stand in the middle of the room, the light falling through the ceiling illuminating their faces.

“I know we don’t have a lot in common,” the Sky Leader speaks up. “But we do have a common enemy, and a common goal. And for us to reach it, to get our people out of Mount Weather, we need to work together.” He turns around to Indra, but she only looks at him with a blank face that barely conceals her disapproval of all of this. “Hogeda. Skai kru… en tri kru.”

Naia inhales sharply at hearing her people’s language out of a Sky Person’s mouth, but suddenly her eyes are drawn to a movement to her left. Penn steps in front of Murphy. Naia watches the scene cautiously while the Sky Leader still talks.

“You got a problem?” Murphy drawls, and Naia’s hand reaches out for the dagger that is no longer attached to her belt. She takes a slow step towards the two men talking instead.

“Yu so don sted raun den ai emoptai ma stegede don ge flosh klin28,” Penn growls back and Naia takes another step closer.

„I’m sorry man, I don’t speak Grounder,” Murphy responds, a smirk on his face, before Penn slaps the cup he holds out of his hand. And then Murphy shoves Penn before Naia can spring into action. The room is dead silent.

“John, stop!” Naia shouts before she even knows what she’s doing, shoving herself between Murphy and one of her own people, looking at the boy she has only know for a few weeks, although “knowing” is an exaggeration. Murphy eyes her with knitted eyebrows as Indra looks over to them like a scalded cat, her face twisted with anger.

“Natrona29,” Indra hisses as she storms towards her, pulling the smallest of knifes from the inside of her upper arm, hidden from the Sky People’s views before. She shoves Naia against a wall (and Murphy out of the way) and presses the blade against the delicate skin of the girl’s throat. Naia grits her teeth as she feels the cool metal parting her skin slightly and drops of blood running down her neck.

“Enough,” the Sky Leaders shouts, stepping next to her. “Indra, the girl has done nothing wrong.”

Naia doesn’t dare to move, not even blink. She breathes shallowly as her eyes are fixed on Indra before her, the woman’s eyes trained on the man next to her. Suddenly, the weight Indra put against Naia is gone and the pressure of the knife against her neck with it. Naia immediately traces her fingers over the wound and feels the flesh give away under the pressure of her fingers, but it’s hardly a cut to be concerned about.

Then, the man turns to her.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, his eyes darting from her eyes to the wound on her neck. Naia just straightens her back and nods like she is taught to. Kane smiles at her. “I want you to get it checked anyway. Mr. Murphy?” Kane turns around to fetch the boy. “Get her to medical.”

Murphy eyes Kane skeptically but starts moving then. Naia follows him.

They head outside and over to a makeshift building. On the inside are only two people: a young man and a middle-aged woman. As they enter through the tarp, they look over to them. The woman looks alarmed and storms towards them.

“What happened to her?” she asks, looking over at Murphy who stands beside her.

“Had to play the hero,” Murphy snarks while the woman still inspects her wound.

“I protected you from doing something stupid,” Naia speaks up annoyed. The woman and Murphy look at her with wide eyes. Naia looks over at Murphy. “You’re hotheaded and you lash out far too quickly.”

“Oh and you’re telling me you guys aren’t short-tempered?” Murphy bickers, but the girl holds their gaze.

“A warrior usually knows how to guide their temper.” Murphy doesn’t respond.

“I need to clean the wound,” the healer of the Sky People then says, and Naia looks at her and nods. “But you won’t need stitches, so that’s good news.” The woman heads over to a near-by table and returns with a bottle and some kind of cloth. It burns as she cleans the wound, but Naia doesn’t flinch. She had worse. The healer than puts a new piece of cloth over the wound, fixing it for it to stay in place, and the girl then thanks the healer and turns around. Murphy is looking at her, his eyebrows knitted again.

“Why the fuck did you help me?”

“You’re not a bad person, John,” Naia responds calmly, her hand searching for the shaft of her dagger, but of course it isn’t there.

“It’s Murphy. No one ever calls me John,” he says with a grim expression and Naia studies his face.

“Maybe it’s time.”

They look at each other, Murphy’s eyes moving quickly, like he searches for betrayal in her eyes. After a while, he says: “We should get back to the mess hall.”

Naia nods. But they won’t go back there, not for another few minutes. She has another plan.

They head out of the makeshift building and over into the space station again, but when Murphy tries to walk down the corridor towards the mess hall, Naia grabs him by the sleeve of his jacket and pulls him in the opposite direction.

“Hey! What the fuck! Let go!” Murphy protests, but Naia only grabs his wrist.

“Quiet!” she hisses and pulls him further. She finds a door and pulls it open. The room is empty. She drags Murphy inside and shuts the door. He’s up in her face as soon as she turns around.

“What was that about?” he asks furiously but Naia silently stares back into his grey eyes until he takes a step back.

“I needed to talk to you. Alone.” Murphy eyes her again in that way he did before, his eyes darting over her face quickly.

“I remember when you cut me loose from that tree,” he says before she can continue, looking at her uncertainly. “Why did you do that? And first of all, what the hell is your name?”

“I’m Naia. And I saw you when you were brought to my village and tortured,” Naia answers and she sees Murphy flinch at the memory. “I spied on you while you were held captive. I couldn’t understand why my people did what they did. I knew they were angry because of what your _people_ did, but I didn’t understand why _you_ had to take the rap for it. I never truly fit in.” Naia takes a deep breath. Murphy still looks at her, but now his eyes are still and his mouth hanging slightly open. “You didn’t deserve it. I tried to help you.”

“But why?” Murphy asks. “What could you probably get out of that?”

Naia double-takes.

“What?” She knits her eyebrows. “Why would I get something out of it? Has nobody ever helped you for the sake of it?”

“No?!” Murphy retorts and looks down at his feet. Naia sees that he grits his teeth, the way the muscles in his jaw flex. “Not since my best friend was…” Naia hears him choke on his words. “And especially not one of your people!” he then spits at her, looking up again. He stomps towards her and Naia positions herself, blocking the door.

“John, listen to me,” she says softly as he tries to wrestle her away from the door. He stops in his tracks and looks up at her. “I want to run away.”

Murphy takes his hands from the door handle and inspects her.

“And? Why should I care?”

“I want you to come with me,” Naia goes on. She sees the surprise reflect on John’s face, his eyes widening. Naia steps away from the door into the depth of the room.

“Why?” Murphy mutters, all the heat from seconds ago gone, following her with his eyes. “What could I possibly mean to you that you’d give up your life to run away with me?”

“I care about you, okay? And I don’t know why, but I do.” Naia sighs. “Fine. I’ll go alone.” She crosses the room and Murphy and is already by the door when his voice makes her stop in her tracks.

“Wait,” he says, barely audible, and she turns around. Murphy looks at her for a few long seconds before he rubs his nose, looking down before their eyes meet again. “Where do you plan to go?”

“East. To a clan living at the coast. They are peaceful. And because you would be with me, I am certain they would accept you too.”

They stare at each other, the room silent. Naia can almost see the gears working in his head. Murphy then looks around the room, sighing. A minute later, their eyes lock again.

“I’ll come with you.”

Naia feels her eyes widen hopefully.

“That’s… I’m glad,” she manages, the corners of her mouth lifting. “How soon can you get out of here?”

“Any minute,” Murphy responds and just from his tone does she know how much he loathes this place.

“Good. Meet me at the drop ship tomorrow morning. Bring supplies, a blanket… we will be on the move for quite some time.” Murphy nods. “I will wait for you. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Naia turns around to the door, her hand on the handle, when his voice stops her yet again.

“I won’t.”

Naia looks at him over her shoulder.

“I know you won’t,” she says and pushes the handle down. She freezes.

“What?” Murphy asks and Naia turns around, the door not open yet.

“Can you get me out of here? If Indra sees me again, she will kill me. She was wary of me all along, of my inten…”

“Yeah, sure,” Murphy interrupts her, and Naia stares at him. “I brought you to medical, nobody will question it if I say that Indra sends you back to your village.”

“Thank you,” Naia says and sees him open and close his mouth in surprise.

“Uhm… yeah, ‘s okay,” he stutters and Naia smiles to herself, opening the door. She peeks outside, but nobody’s in the hallway. They slip outside, Naia fetches her dagger from the basin where she left it, and they head over to the gate. Murphy exchanges a few words with a guard and then, the gate opens with a buzz. Naia turns to the boy as he steps before her.

“I meant it. Don’t leave me hanging,” he repeats hushed, looking him straight into the eyes. “I hate it when my gut instinct was wrong.”

“I’ll be there.”

It’s as good a promise as it gets.

*

Naia takes one of the horses, she doesn’t care about the consequences. She just needs to get back to Tondc as quickly as possible so she can get to the drop ship in time. It’s not like she’s stealing the horse. She’ll leave it at her village.

Naia hurries the horse, her knuckles white with her grip on the rein, not even slowing down when it starts to rain. Shortly after nightfall, she arrives in Tondc. Naia sneaks inside and into the house that was her home for so long, and which she will probably never see again after this night.

Her mother sits at the work table as usual and jumps when Naia comes inside.

“You’re back,” her mother says before her eyes dart to the bandage on Naia’s neck. “Are you okay?” She steps closer and studies her daughter.

“Yes, but I don’t have much time. Indra, she… if I’m not gone when she comes back, she will kill me. I don’t have time to explain.”

Her mother nods.

“Can I help you with something?” she asks and Naia looks around the room.

“Yes. Please pack my clothes and some provisions into my bag. I need to do something. I’ll be back in a bit.” Naia squeezes her mother’s hand before she heads outside again. She crosses the village and enters the storage hut, taking a torch from outside with her. She sees the heap of clothes lying in one corner and searching through it, she finds what she is looking for: the jacket John wore when he was brought here, before he was tortured. Naia also finds an unused bow and a quiver full of arrows. She was never exceptionally good using the bow, but then again she also wasn’t exceptionally bad either. She inspects the arrows and decides they are good enough. She shoulders the quiver and looks around the room for the last item she needs. She spots the folded tarp on a shelf and fetches it. With it and Murphy’s jacket under one arm, the bow in one hand and the torch in the other, she heads outside. She’s careful to not look too suspicion when she makes her way back to her hut.

Inside, she finds her mother putting the last few things into her bag. Naia puts her finds on the ground and heads over into her room one last time. It doesn’t look much different. Most of her clothes are gone and she takes the fur from her bed. It’s the last thing she needs.

Her mother waits next to her bag when she returns to the main room. The tarp and Murphy’s jacket are stuffed into her bag and Naia folds the fur in her hands and lays it over the bag. There’s no space for it inside it anymore. She picks the bag up and adjusts the sling across her chest before she shoulders the quiver and picks up the bow. When Naia finally looks at her mother, she sees no tears, but a proud, small smile on her mother’s face.

“May the spirits guide and protect you on your way,” she says and takes Naia’s face in her hands and kisses her forehead. Naia is lost for words. “Now go. We can’t know when Indra will be back.”

Naia gulpes and nods. This is it. She grips her bow hard.

“Thank you. For everything.”

Her mother smiles as she hurries her outside.

*

Naia walks throughout the night. She keeps off the well-trodden paths and stops at every noise she hears. But it only turns out as game and birds in the trees, and neither Indra nor any of the warriors are in sight. Her shoulders ache when she finally arrives at the drop ship, the sun only starting to turn the clouds from black to grey. Naia walks around the remains of the camp that was once the one of the Sky Children. The earth is still charred and black, and only now does Naia see the burned skeletons scattered across the soil. She gags, walking past them.

She enters the drop ship through the tarp and sets her bag and weapon down at the ladder reaching up through the roof. She paces around the metal inside.

About an hour later, Naia listens up. There are footsteps outside the drop ship. The girl draws her dagger, holding it before her.

Then, the tarp is pushed aside and Murphy comes into view.

“Thank the spirits,” Naia mutters and pockets her weapon. Murphy catches the motion.

“Expected someone else?” he asks, stepping closer.

“No,” Naia says and kneels down next to her bag. “But you can never be cautious enough.” She searches through her bag and quickly finds what she is looking for. She hands it over to Murphy. “I thought you’d want it back,” she explains and Murphy looks at it dumbfounded. He then stretches out his hand and takes the jacket from Naia. He unfolds it, inspecting the red spiky patch on the shoulder. After a few silent moments, he slides his backpack from his shoulders, shimmies out of his jacket and puts his old one on. He looks down at himself.

“Th… thanks,” he stutters and Naia looks at him with the smallest of smiles. She pushes herself up and picks up her bag along with the quiver and the bow.

“We should go. I don’t wanna be around here any longer than I have to,” Naia explains and Murphy nods, picking up his backpack. When they step outside, they see that the clouds turned a faint orange and pink. They whirl up ashes as they cross the burned strip of land before the green of the forest surrounds them.

They trod next to each other in silence for a long time before Murphy speaks up.

“So how come you’re running away?” he asks and glances over at her. Naia bites her lip.

“I couldn’t stand it anymore… all of it. The viciousness and the fighting and everyone being so hostile all the time.” She looks over at him.

“You’re not like the others,” Murphy blurts out and he seems taken aback by his own words.

“You could say so, yes,” Naia agrees and looks around the forest. They haven’t come far yet. “My mother told me that she knew I would go away eventually when I confessed that I would run away.”

“You left your mother behind?” His tone is shocked.

“Yes,” Naia replies. “Did you leave anyone behind?”

“Nah,” Murphy says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. “There’s nobo… what was that?”

He turns around and look up at the tree tops.

“Probably just some birds,” Naia tries to calm him, walking on. “John?” Naia calls out, turning around when he doesn’t catch up. Murphy is standing stock-still and Naia stops in her track as well. The acid fog. She immediately springs into action, leaps over to Murphy, grabs him by the sleeve of his jacket and pulls him along. “God damn it, RUN!”

That’s when Murphy seems to come to his senses. He starts sprinting, keeping up with her.

Where do they go? They are too far from the drop ship, and anyway, the fog is blocking the way back. There are the tunnels and the garage of the Reapers, but in no way will they seek shelter there. But there’s nothing else.

Naia sees the birds flee from the trees as the fog keeps rolling after them, but they can’t stop. It’s not impossible to run from the fog, she knows that, but they can’t keep running forever. Her mind works frantically as they run step after step, the fog slowly catching up to them.

That’s when it strikes her.

“This way!” she calls and reaches out for Murphy to pull him with her, north. She shoots a quick glance back and sees the wall of fog still building up, but she knows she did the right thing.

They run for another kilometer when Naia begins to recognize the woods.

“Follow me!”

She heads still further north, and from the fluttering sounds of the bird above them, she knows that the acid fog is still after them. At a massive rock, she turns right and their footsteps still fall rapidly, thump thump thump.

“Argh!” Murphy grunts behind her and Naia stops with stuttering steps. As she turns around, she sees that the fog is dangerously close. She also sees Murphy lying on the ground, holding his wrist. She storms over to him and yanks him up.

“Quick!” she says, pulling the boy along.

“How far?” Murphy asks, and she can hear that he won’t be able to persevere any longer.

“Few hundred feet.” Naia wastes no breath. She then let’s go off Murphy so they can run faster again. Closer, closer, still closer. Thump thump thump.

“There!” Naia huffs, out of breath herself. She kneels to the ground where metal shines through green. Naia throws her bow to the ground and digs her fingers into the vines, attempting to rip them apart, but the plant doesn’t budge.

“What are you doing?” Murphy says abrasively, looming over her. “Use your dagger!”

Naia clenches her teeth as she pulls her weapon from its sheath and begins to cut through the vines.

“Quick. Naia, the fog’s almost here!” She hears the fear in the boy’s voice and she also feels the drops of sweat on her forehead.

“I’m trying!” she snaps, her breathing accelerating. They didn’t make the decision to run away for the fog to get them. Not now. “Not today,” she whispers to herself as she doubles her efforts and a second later, the largest vine which wound itself through the wheel of the lid gives away under the pressure of her dagger. She wrenches it aside and turns the wheel. The fog is only a couple dozen feet away.

The wheel spins as fast as she can get it to before it suddenly come to a halt.

“Yes,” Naia sighs and pulls the lid up, opening up to darkness underneath. “Get in!” she commands and Murphy rounds her hurriedly. She pockets her dagger as he vanishes into the darkness. Naia doesn’t even look up again as she grabs her bow and heads into the bunker herself. But the fog is too close. She screams as it burns her skin and she forcefully pulls the lid shut, spinning the wheel on the inside to screw it shut.

She climbs down the last few rungs and her bow clatters to the ground.

“Naia, are you okay?” Murphy’s voice comes out of the darkness close to her, and she stretches her arms out towards the sound. Her fingertips flitter over the smooth fabric of Murphy’s jacket and she pulls him close. She throws her arms around his neck and buries her head in the crease of his neck.

“I thought we would die,” she whimpers as her body begins to shudder. “I… I thought…” Her voice cracks.

“Hey,” Murphy’s voice suddenly reaches her, incredibly soft. “We didn’t. You saved us,” he whispers and slings an arm around the small of her back. Naia just dig her fingers into the fabric of Murphy’s jacket as she lets the tears roll down her cheeks.

She’s not a warrior.

She’s a lover.

*

They sit in down in the darkness of the bunker next to each other.

“Your wrist…” Naia starts.

“Nah, it’s okay. See?” Naia squints her eyes at where he must sit next to her. “Ah right. You can’t see me moving my wrist.” He chuckles. It’s the first time she hears him laugh. “No but seriously, I’m ok. How are you?”

Naia traces her fingertips over her cheeks. Her skin is a bit tender, but she can’t feel any blisters. The same goes for the skin on her hand.

“I’m good,” she responds finally and takes a deep breath. “That was close. We should wait an hour or two before we take a look outside again.”

“Then we should find some candles or something.”

Naia feels Murphy get up next to her and she hoists herself up as well. They stumble around the bunker for several minutes, bumps and muttered curses filling the room. Naia feels her way along the walls. First they are bare, but then she finds a cupboard and inspects every shelf.

“I think I got something,” Murphy calls from the other side of the room as Naia’s fingers flitter across something that feels much like a candle. “Now we only need matches.”

“Matches?” Naia asks, grabbing the candle.

“It’s… uh… a small box, it should rattle if you shake it,” he explains, and Naia feels around the shelves once more. She finds something that fits Murphy’s description and picks it up and shakes it.

“Like that?”

“Yeah,” the boy responds. “You got a candle?”

“Yes,” Naia answers brusquely. She tries to figure out how to open the box. “John? How do I…?”

She hears cautious footsteps and almost feels him come to a halt next to her.

“Here,” he says and his fingers flutter over her until he finds her hands and takes the matchbox from them. A second later after a rasping noise, a small, flickering flame illuminates the darkness. Murphy holds a small wooden stick between his thumb and index finger, the tip of it burning. He holds it against the wick of Naia’s candle and the flame leaps to it. He goes to fetch the candles he found and brings them back, lightening one after another. The room is filling with soft, flickering light.

They look around and find a table with four chairs around it, a couch and a small cooking area. At one end of the room are two doors. They put the candles down on the table.

“Should as well get comfortable, right?” Murphy says and let’s himself fall onto the couch. He pats the spot next to him. “Get here, it’s comfy,” he says before he pushes himself deeper into the padding and drops his head back. When she doesn’t move he peeks at her with one eye. “You okay?”

Naia tries to nod but it’s slow and half-heartedly. Murphy straightens up, staring at her.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she whispers and look over at him. “It’s a bit scary.”

Murphy’s eyes get a distant look before he nods.

“Yeah but if it’s leaving or staying… I’d rather leave,” he admits.

“I’m really glad you came,” Naia blurts out, the fear that Murphy wouldn’t turn up earlier getting the better of her, and she kind of wants to slap herself until she spots the blood creeping into Murphy’s cheeks and how he looks down at his hands.

Naia decides not point it out. She never liked it when someone did it on her. So she just sits down next to him, sinking into the soft padding of the couch.

“Oh…” she sighs and relaxes. “I could get used to that.” She leans back and closes her eyes.

“Tell me about it,” Murphy agrees next to her, inhaling deeply.

The silence stretches between them, only the slow rhythm of their breathing heard.

“John?” Naia eventually whispers into the silence.

“Hm?”

“Why did you agree? To come with me?” She opens her eyes and looks over at him. His ragged hair is starting to mat and a single strand falls into his face when he turns his head to look at her. “I mean, after all the…”

“After all the things your people did to me?” he completes her sentence, raising his eyebrows. “Well maybe the fact that you are the first person repeatedly _not_ treating me like shit is playing into that,” he adds and Naia just stares at him, her lips parted. She sees Murphy bite the inside of his cheeks like he ponders to say anything else. Naia makes a mental note to not treat him like shit, whatever that means.

They rest for some ten more minutes before Naia stands up and searches through the bunker. The drawers in the cooking area are empty, only a few cups and pots heavy with dust taking up space. She then inspects the cupboard she searched earlier in the darkness and finds books, papers and pens and several other things she can’t identify. Then, she goes over to inspect the rooms behind the doors. One contains four beds, one about another respectively. The other is a bathroom. She heads inside.

“Argh!” Naia screams as she catches a movement to her left and turns towards it. A face is staring back at her.

“You ok?” Murphy calls from the other room.

“M-hm,” she hums back and steps closer to the face. It seems to step towards her as well. Then, Naia’s hips bump against the sink and she looks down. The face does too. Naia looks back up and can’t help but chuckle at her own stupidity. It’s just that she never before saw a real mirror. She looks at it and inspect herself in the almost darkness.

“Hey, what are y…?” Naia gapes over at Murphy in the doorframe, her nose only centimeters from the mirror. The corner of Murphy’s mouth twitch. “Seriously?” he mocks and Naia laughs.

“Don’t judge me,” she says and nudges his upper arm and he sways, still grinning at her. Naia brushes past him, biting her lip to contain her smirk. When she turns around to look back at Murphy, he holds up his hand in defense.

“It’s not every day you see someone who hasn’t seen a mirror,” he explains as he walks towards her. Naia crosses her arms, smiling with one corner of her mouth.

“Oh I am _sorry_ ,” she teases back and the two stare at each other, their eyes alight with glee. Naia can see Murphy studying her, his gaze moving from her eyes to her mouth to her feet and back up again.

“Okay,” he then says, shaking his head once. “You think the acid fog will be gone already?”

She shrugs her shoulders.

“Let’s give it a try,” she accedes and heads over to the ladder. She climbs the rungs and spins the wheel until it no longer moves. Naia proceeds to cautiously push the lid open.

No acid fog burns her skin, so she pushes the lid all the way open.

“All clear,” she calls down and climbs down the rungs again. “We should go. The way’s not gonna get shorter the longer we wait.”

Murphy nods and shoulders his bag and Naia does the same. She just pockets the matchbox before she gets up the ladder again – they could come in handy.

*

They head east, always toward the coast. The sun remains hidden behind the clouds as they make their way through the woods, and even though the air is cool, they begin to sweat. They walk mostly downhill and after a few hours when the terrain begins to even out, Naia stops in her tracks, looking around. Murphy comes to a halt several steps later, turning to her.

“We stopping?” he asks, looking around.

“Yes,” Naia replies, putting her bag, quiver and bow down on the leafy ground. “We should be far enough from Mount Weather and I really don’t want to walk any further.”

Murphy nods and heads back over to her as Naia pulls the tarp from her bag. The crickets clitter as an owl howls in the distance. Naia unfolds the tarp and fetches a thick roll of rope from her bag. She unrolls it a bit and attaches the loose end above halfway up her thigh around a tree.

“Here,” she calls over to Murphy and throws the roll of rope over to him. “Attach it the same way around that stem.” Naia points at the tree next to him. “But don’t cut it. Just let it fall to the ground when you’re ready.”

The girl watches him for another second before she walks around, cutting the leaves off the ferns.

“Can I…,” Murphy says moment later and Naia looks up from where she bends over a fern. “Can I help, or something?” He’s standing next to the taut rope, the hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Of course,” Naia says and stands up. “We need something to keep the chill away when we sleep. The ferns will do that. Just collect as many as you can.”

They then collect in silence for some time until Naia’s arms are full of leaves and she drops them under the rope. Murphy drops his collection next to her a few minutes later as Naia spreads the leaves on the ground.

“This is gonna keep us warm?” Murphy asks and Naia looks over at him.

“Warm enough, yes,” she answers before she looks down again to make sure every inch of ground is covered.

“But what about the animals?”

“What about them?” Naia asks absently, rearranging a few leaves here and there.

“They are not gonna attack us, are they?” Naia’s hands still. She looks at Murphy and bites her lip as she grins.

“No,” she hums and stands up, fetching the tarp. “Give me a hand?”

Murphy glances at her from where he’s still kneeling, eventually standing up and picking up the other two corners of the tarp. Naia steps over the rope and takes a few steps until the middle of the tarp is above the rope. She puts the corners down on the ground, and Murphy does the same at the other side.

“Now we need rocks for the edges,” she explains and looks around her. She finds a big one a few meters away and fetches it, securing one corner of the tarp with it. Murphy does the same for his side. Less than five minutes later, their shelter is ready. Naia walks around to inspect it, but everything is to her satisfaction.

She plops down on the ground next to her bag, pulling a metal bottle from it. A single ray of sunshine finds its way through the clouds and illuminates the forest for a second before it is gone. Naia unscrews the bottle and takes a few long sips from it.

“Hey, relax,” she says and looks up at Murphy.

“Yeah only the last time I walked around these woods alone I was _captured_ by your people,” he points out, still making no move to sit down. Naia inhales, not taking her gaze off of him.

“You’re not alone, John,” she reminds him. “And if you try to make me feel bad for what my people did, good luck. Because I already did, if you didn’t catch that,” she snaps, screwing her bottle shut. She searches through her bag once again and pulls a package of dried meat out, unfolding it and biting a piece off of one strip. Murphy sits down next to her, but not so close that they could touch.

“Yeah I… that was dumb,” he admits and Naia peeks over at him out of the corner of her eye, and she begins to think that it was the right decision to take Murphy with her.

*

They continue their walk the next day a few hours after the sun is up, the sky again mostly full of clouds. And the further they get away from Mount Weather, the calmer Naia realizes she gets. And when she senses the change in lightning, she stops again for them to build their shelter. It takes them only some ten minutes to build it, Murphy already knowing what he has to do. Naia then gathers dry sticks and piles them up to start a small campfire. She fetches the matches from her bag.

“You took them with you?” Murphy asks surprised and Naia looks up as she pushes the box open.

“It looked like an easier way to start a fire than the traditional way,” she explains, and tries to lighten the match.

“Yeah I don’t doubt that and uhm… you… you need to do it faster,” he hints. Naia tries to lighten the match again, rasping it along one side of the box and is completely taken aback as flames splutter into life before her. She beams at Murphy. He eyes her with an amused expression before horror fills his eyes. “Put it down, put it down!”

Naia, startled, drops the match.

“Why did you do that?” she shoots, watching the match burn out on the ground.

“You can’t hold a match that long, you’re gonna burn your fingers,” he remarks before he grins at her. “You’re so clueless.”

Naia squints at him as she pulls another match from the box and lights it at the first try and seconds later, the first flames flicker from the pile of sticks and the campfire begins to crackle. Not much later, the forest is filled with twilight. The two pull their provisions from their bag and eat in silence.

“John?” Naia says after they are finished and Murphy looks up from where he stared into the campfire opposite her.

“Hm?”

“Why are you the way you are?” She doesn’t know why exactly she wants to know. Probably because he’s so different from her. Murphy knits his eyebrows at her.

“How to you mean that?” he inquires.

“What happened to you? That you let nobody close?” Naia pulls her knees to her chest and watches the boy in front of her.

“Like you would understand,” he taunts and pushes himself up, but he can’t walk away. Naia is up just as quick and holds him back.

“Please. I want to understand.”

Murphy studies her in the darkness, his face motionless like stone. Naia lets go off his wrist. She searches for some kind of emotion in his eyes, but all he does is stare back. She sighs.

“I lost my father when I was five,” she starts to whisper and looks down at the dagger attached to her belt. “He gave this dagger to me before he… before he went on that mission. It was nothing special, just another try to get a few of our people back from the reapers, but they were ambushed. They sl… slit his throat,” she stutter and finally looks up at Murphy again. “I know what it means, to lose someone. Finn killed my best friend. It made me let myself be guided by anger and I isolated myself. Is that what happened to you?”

The muscles in his jaw are working as he still stares at her.

“You still wouldn’t understand,” he grumbles and looks past her at the campfire.

“Then explain it to me! I know nothing about you, and I want to. I didn’t ask you to come with me to leave you in the end, and I want to know who you are, John!” Naia storms. She searches his eyes again, but he still doesn’t take his eyes off the fire. “Loka ai!” she wails, desperate, falling back into her mother tongue.

Murphy’s eyes snap to hers. And she knows that she has gone too far, that she sounds too desperate, and that she is.

“But you still had someone,” Murphy replies, but instead of heated, his voice is oddly flat. Naia takes a step back, her breath hitching. Murphy’s features are restrained. “They killed my dad for wanting to help me, only it didn’t anyway. And my mom,” he huffs a miserable laugh. “My mom, she started drinking after that. Told me I killed my dad before I found her in her own vomit. I was eight. They sent me to the sky box after that because that’s where you land if you have nobody to take care of you. Ended up in a cell with the worst kind of people you can imagine. The only thing I had left was a book my dad always read – Romeo and Juliet.” Murphy sighs and rounds Naia, slumping down in front of the camp fire. She watches him cautiously.

“I eventually found a friend, but he’s dead now too, because of your people.” Naia sits down next to him, surveying his features in the flickering light. “And then when we came down here, I tried to prove myself. Opposite to what I couldn’t do when I was a kid. Got myself hanged for it, called a murder, banished. You know the rest.” Silence stretches between them and neither of them move. “’should probably tell you that I killed two people,” he then adds and Naia blinks.

“I believe you had your reasons,” she fathoms, not waiting a beat, and she knows why she says it. She wanted to see the Sky People dead after Finn killed Artigas too. Then, Naia stretches out her arm and pries Murphy’s hand from his crossed arms. He lets her. She takes his hand into hers and softly traces her thumb across the back of his hand. He watches the motion thunderstruck. “And thank you. For telling me.” Naia looks up from their entwined fingers.

“You’re a persistent little shit, I would have needed to tell you sooner or later,” he scoffs, shrugging his shoulders and Naia grins.

“You just can’t shut up to save yourself,” she retorts and nudges him with her foot. Murphy grins back at her.

“Probably, yeah,” he agrees, and Naia chuckles.

*

They crawl into their shelter not long afterwards and snuggle under their blankets. The forest is filled with the chatter of birds, an owl or two hooting. Naia is quickly half asleep.

“Naia?” Murphy’s raspy voice calls out, and she turns her face towards him.

“M-hm?”

“Thanks. For not judging,” he murmurs.

“’s no problem,” she whispers back, the sleep slowly washing over her. “You’re not your demons.”

She can’t see the way Murphy gazes at her.

*

The next days, the temperature increases steadily. They have to take off their jackets during the days to keep at least a bit cool in the shadows of the forest, and they can smell the salt from the sea more and more each day. The sixth day after the start of their journey, they come across a lake in the forest. Naia immediately drops all of her things. She starts to pull her shirt up.

“Uhm… Naia?” Murphy calls and she stops in her tracks, turning her head around.

“What?” she asks, taking her hands off of the hem of her shirt and placing them on her hips. “We hiked for days and haven’t had a chance to properly clean ourselves. There’s a lake. Also it’s probably the last hot day this year. I don’t want to waste it.” She shrugs and pulls off her shirt before she kicks her boots off her feet. She unbuckles her belt and throws it next to her other clothes before she peels herself out of her jeans. Her underpants and her socks go last. She climbs up onto a flat rock by the shore. She looks back over at Murphy again. He’s still standing where he stopped, gaping at her. Naia smirks and runs a few steps, jumping into the water.

The water is colder than she anticipated, and she splutters when she comes up to the surface again, rubbing the water out of her eyes.

“Get in the water!” she calls, beaming. “Get in!”

She takes a few strokes near the shore, letting herself get cooled by the water. When she looks over to the shore again, she sees Murphy drop his bag. He eyes her uncertainly.

“By the spirits, get out of your clothes!” Naia calls again and finally, Murphy peels his shirt off. Naia keeps swimming until she hears a splash. Seconds later, Murphy’s head surfaces.

“Fuck!” he curses and Naia laughs. “Couldn’t you have warned me?” he asks angrily as he slings his arms around himself. Naia swims over to him.

“Sorry,” she chuckles as she stops a meter before him. “You get used to it.”

“I sure as hell won’t,” he spits back and Naia can see his eyes flutter from her face further down. A look of confusion crosses his face.

“What?” Naia asks and he looks at her again as he untangles his arms.

“You don’t… you don’t have a problem with us…”

“With us what?” she inquires, raising one eyebrow.

“Being naked,” Murphy clarified, and Naia looks down at both of them.

“No,” she says, now as confused as he is. “Should I?”

Murphy chuckles for a moment before he rubs his nose and looks at her with a smile.

“I guess not,” he notes.

Naia uses the moment of jauntiness and uses all her power to push Murphy under water again, her hands on his shoulders. He puffs and blows when he comes up again.

“Oh no you didn’t!” he sneers but Naia quickly swims away from him, but his hand closes around her ankle and she’s pulled under. She laughs as she gets up again, looking back at Murphy. He runs his fingers through his matted hair.

“Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea,” he admits as he untangles his strands. Naia watches his fingers.

“I told you so,” she chirps and get closer to the shore again so she can stand and rub herself clean. Murphy does the same.

Naia gets out of the water shortly afterwards and lies down on the flat rock to let herself be dried by the sun. Not a single cloud is in the sky. Murphy lies down next to her. Naia closes her eyes and absorbs the warmth.

“That was good,” she mutters as she traces her fingers over her body and feels no drops of water anymore.

“Cold, but good,” Murphy agrees and Naia squints over at him, the sun blinding her. Now they are both clean, their hair a bit less tangled and their spirits refreshed. Murphy smiles at her when he catches her eye. “Are we gonna walk any further today?”

“No,” Naia answers and pushes herself to her elbows. “We could wash out clothes and lay them here to dry and then we can continue tomorrow.”

“I’m good with that,” Murphy croaks as he hoists himself up and heads over to his clothes. “But I’m just gonna wash my shirt. I don’t know how you do it but I’m more comfortable with my bareness covered.”

He slips into his briefs and pants as Naia looks over at him, smiling to herself. Her dreads are dripping on the stone, so she sits up and squeezes the water from them as good as she can. She then heads down to her clothes and puts on her panty and pants. She rolls up her trouser sleeves and squats down at the waterfront, soaking her shirt in the water. Murphy does the same next to her. When they are finished, they spread out their shirts on the flat rock and sit down next to them.

“So tell me about the… the Ark,” Naia says, hoping she remembered the name right. “What is it like, in space?”

“Sucks, for the most part,” Murphy chuckles. “But there was no dust, so that was nice.”

“No dust?” Naia asks unbelieving.

“Yeah. But other than that, it sucked. Sometimes we had no water. I remember once or twice that we had no food for a day. It was dreary, the whole thing. And seeing the earth from outer space wasn’t so cool anymore after a few years.”

“But what does it look like?” Naia wonders. All of this is so new to her.

“Like a giant ball full of blue, green and white,” Murphy describes and Naia looks over at him with a disbelieving smile. “Enough with the interrogation, it’s my turn.”

“Okay,” Naia agrees and leans forward onto her knees, pulled to her chest. “What do you want to know?”

“How to you say ‘thank you’ in Grounder?”

“Grounder?” Naia asks, knitting her eyebrows.

“You know, your language,” Murphy explains, waving his hand.

“It’s called Trigedasleng. And it’s ‘mochof’.”

“What about ‘thank you that you let me run away with you’?” Murphy then asks and Naia looks at him – really looks at him. His grey eyes are fixed on her and his brown hair is brushed out of his face.

“’Mochof bilaik yu don pul we hogeda ai’. It’s not the ex…”

Suddenly, Murphy’s lips are on hers and she sucks in a deep breath through her nose. His fingers settle on her cheeks and her eyes close on their own accord. When the pressure of his lips are gone, and her eyes flutter open, she gazes directly into his grey ones. She feels his breath on her skin. She blinks a few times, remembering the pressure of his lips.

That’s when he pulls away, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair.

“That was dumb, I’m sorry” he mutters, looking down at his feet.

“No, it wasn’t,” Naia replies and Murphy eyes her out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes it was,” he responds, looking straight at her now. “I never had that… kind of attraction before, okay? But I do find you appealing, I don’t know. And I like you, okay? I just don’t know…” He trails off.

“You just don’t know what?” Naia asks softly, scooting closer. “Because if you think that I’m gonna have a problem with any of this, you are wrong,” she clears up and takes Murphy’s chin between her fingers. “And don’t ever apologize for kissing me again.”

She brings her lips down on his, and now he’s the one whose breath hitches. But in a matter of seconds, his hands are on her cheeks. He slings an arm around the small of her back and pulls her closer. Naia lifts one of her legs over his and straddles him, burying her fingers in his hair. Naia’s breathing accelerates as her fingers flutter over the bare skin of Murphy’s shoulders. She kisses a trail down Murphy’s throat and hears him inhaling sharply with every new inch of skin she covers with her lips.

“Naia,” he whispers and she stops, looking up at him. “I’d rather not…” His eyes dart from her eyes to her mouth and down to her breasts. Suddenly Naia becomes aware that she’s not wearing a shirt. And she realizes that even though it may be natural for her, it isn’t for Murphy. She pulls back, sitting down next to him and pulls her knees to her chest.

“Sure,” she smiles at him. “Maybe we should start building our shelter instead.”

When she sees the relieved look on Murphy’s face, she knows that she said the right thing.

*

The stars are out and the moon sheds a faint blue light on everything. Naia and Murphy lie under their tarp, the girl under her fur, the boy under his man-made blanket.

“You really won’t let me apologize for kissing you, right?” he asks into the soft sounds of the night, and Naia turns around to him.

“You can apologize all you want, but you don’t need to. You don’t need to apologize for what you feel. If you want to kiss me, kiss me. If not, don’t.”

“Glad we got that settled because I really wanna kiss you right now,” Murphy says and Naia chuckles before his lips latch onto hers, his fingers stroking through the soft hair at her temple. The girl crawls closer and feels Murphy’s arm drape around her. He stops kissing her. “But I’d much rather just hold you.”

*

Two days later, the woods thinning out more and more with each kilometer, they finally arrive at the shore. Not the real shore, though. They are only at the bridge that brings them onto the peninsula that is inhabited by the Boat Clan.

Naia stops in her tracks and it takes Murphy a few more steps before he notices. He’s already on the pavement leading onto and over the bridge when he turns around.

“You coming?”

When Naia doesn’t answer, he walks back over to her.

“Something wrong?”

Naia eyes the bridge with unease.

“If I cross this bridge… I’ll be further away from Tondc than ever before.”

Murphy shoots the bridge a quick glance before he looks at her again.

“Well, then let’s get it over with. We’re here to get away from our old lives, aren’t we? The further, the better.” He takes her hand, awkwardly entwining their fingers. “And there’s not really any backing out now, right?”

Naia looks up into his grey eyes, now seeming bluer than ever before in the forest, and nods. She lets herself get pulled onto the bridge by Murphy and step by step, they leave the dry land behind them. Not much later they are surrounded by water, only the rusting construction of the bridge between them and the sea and the slightly visible land of the peninsula before them.

“What’s ‘please don’t kill us’ in Trigedasleng?” Murphy suddenly asks and Naia looks over to him, one eyebrow raised. “Just in case!” he tries to defend himself, holding up his hands.

“Beja no frag oso op, if it’s so important to you,” Naia translates and chortles. “But I doubt we will need that.”

“You can never be cautious enough,” Murphy explains and slips his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. “Here goes nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 Lying/Liar  
> 18 You’ve been accused, Gustus  
> 19 Speak true.  
> 20 Put him on the tree  
> 21 Mother, Mom  
> 22 You will obey me  
> 23 Gather the warriors and go to the village of the Sky People.  
> 24 What are you going to do at the Sky People’s village?  
> 25 Heads up, eyes sharp  
> 26 Remember, we’re the ones with a thousand warriors in the woods.  
> 27 Welcome  
> 28 You stood there watching while my village was massacred.  
> 29 Traitor
> 
> OH MY. I was really looking forward to this chapter! Did you like it? Let me know! Kudos and comments are, as always, highly appreciated :33 The last chapter will be shorter again, with only bits and pieces, but I hope you will like that too. And thanks for sticking around :3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so fucking sorry but my life has been a mess and to not keep you waiting any longer I decided to split the last chapter in two and present you the first half. I don't know yet how long the last chapter will be, but I hope around 5k, but no promises.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one!

“This is nice,” Murphy says and the wind messes up his hair as Naia looks over at him. The water sloshes against the construction of the bridge and the pavement scrunches under their shoes.

“What is?” she asks when he doesn’t continue. He then tears his eyes away from the view around them and looks at her.

“Starting over,” he explains, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I had that chance before, messed it up big time. And now I got a second chance, or third, if you like. And I got the feeling it’s going good so far.”

Torn clouds hurry across the sky and obscure the sun. Naia looks down at her distressed boots for a second.

“Yes, it is. I just hope that what my mother told me is true.” She worries her bottom lip and eyes Murphy again. He knits his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“That the Boat Clan is peaceful.”

“Wait, what?” Murphy cuts in and stops. Naia turns around to him. “We went all this way because of what may as well just be a speculation?” he snaps. Now the girl furls her eyebrows as well.

“What did you think this would be? That we follow a map and everything would be sunshine and roses? Well I’m sorry I have to disappoint you, John, but nothing ever is!”

“I’m the last person you have to tell that!” he spits back.

“Then why are you so angry?” Naia asks, half annoyed, half concerned, her voice still raised. Murphy opens his mouth, but she cuts him off. “I’m willing to go through all of this with you, and I will continue to if the Boat Clan won’t accept us, even if we have to walk a thousand miles, and I…” She sighs, rubbing her hand over her eyes before she looks at him again. Murphy stares at her, his lips slightly parted. “I want to do this with you. Don’t you get it? And… hell, we can’t turn back around now. Not now that we’ve come so far, and especially because we _can’t_ go back, John.” Her chest raises and falls rapidly. She talked herself into a rage.

The waves continue to slosh against the bridge as neither of them say a word.

“I’m sorry,” Naia sighs after another moment and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I shouldn’t have…”

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Murphy interrupts her, stepping closer. Naia looks up at him. “I’m stubborn, and a fool. You put up with me, again and again, and I just… I just don’t understand why you would do that for someone like me. I’m not used to that. I always pushed people away because that’s what I had to to survive, but I don’t have to with you. It’s the first time in forever I don’t… have to…” He trails off, looking lost.

“Well then,” Naia says and takes his hand, looking down at them. “Do you trust me with this?” Their eyes meet again.

“I guess so,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders almost imperceptibly. “I mean, we came this far already. We can’t turn around, right?”

Naia purses her lips.

“Then let’s go.”

The pavement on the bridge is overgrown with grass and moss, but it continues to crunch under their steps. Halfway across the bridge, the wind suddenly begins to blow stormily and the clouds above them start to turn a dark blue color. Naia inspects them concerned.

“We should hurry,” she hushes and accelerates her pace. “We have to erect our shelter before it begins to rain.”

Murphy keeps up with her and they pass the bridge almost running. Over at the other side, they leave the pavement and Naia searches for a save spot and quickly finds one.

“Collect ferns before it’s too late,” she orders and Murphy drops his bag to the ground before he walks around, ripping the leaves off the small bushes. Naia licks her finger and holds it in the air, finding out from where the wind blows. East. She finds two trees that are aligned east-west and attaches the rope to the one end on knee height and the other right above the stump before she throws the tarp over it. Then she fetches some stones as Murphy comes back with the ferns and places them under the tarp.

“Get your blanket and my fur from our bags and store everything under the tarp!” Naia calls as she puts down the first heavy stone. “And dig a ditch on either side of the tarp for the rain water!”

Hurriedly, Naia fetches more stones and brings them back to their shelter, placing them along the edges of the tarp. Murphy grunts on the other side as he digs into the soft soil and that’s when the first lightning makes them stop in their tracks.

“Hurry!” Naia panics and she begins to dig on her side, not really caring about the depth of the ditch, just that there is one to keep the water from getting their shelter wet. “You finished?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Murphy calls back from the opposite side and Naia collects the remaining stones and rounds their shelter, dropping half of them into Murphy’s open palms. In a few seconds, the stones are in place and they crawl under the tarp. Just in time for the first raindrops to splash onto the plastic.

Both of them catch their breath as thunder after thunder roll over them, the air getting stiffly wet.

“Close call,” Murphy finals says and Naia opens her eyes, looking over at him. “But I guess that means no dinner?”

She chuckles.

“Do you have any provisions left?” she asks, turning onto her side.

“Some nuts, but that’s it.”

The rain now drums relentlessly on the tarp and the trees around them. Naia fetches her bag from the foot of the shelter and rummages through it. She finds some dried berries, nuts and four strips of dried meat.

“That’s it for me. We’re gonna share today and tomorrow we’ll try to hunt and collect.” Naia places her food between them and leans down onto her elbow. Murphy does the same, fetching the nuts from his backpack and drops them among Naia’s food. The girl pops one of the berries into her mouth. Murphy takes one of the meat strips and gnaws on it.

“We never had meat on the Ark,” he says as he inspects the meat, chewing on the piece in his mouth. Naia looks up from the nut between her fingers.

“That sounds terrible,” she responds horrified before she cracks the nut between her teeth. Murphy just shrugs his shoulders as he takes another bite. Another lightning illuminates the growing darkness and the thunder follows it a few seconds later.

“There were too many people. It was easier to provide us with vegetables and crops and that sort than having to provide meat with it as well.”

“How many people were there?” Naia asks intrigued, picking up a strip of meat and biting off a piece of it.

“Two thousand something. Why?”

“Just curious,” the girl mumbles between the food in her mouth. “I just can’t imagine it – floating in space. Must have been scary.”

“Lonely, for the most part,” Murphy confesses and looks at the meat strip he still holds in his hand. The woods around them get wetter by the minute, but Naia did good work with their shelter. They stay dry.

“Are you still feeling lonely?” Naia asks all of a sudden, and with her words, the sounds of the rain and thunder around them seem to intensify. She knows why she asks: she felt lost and lonely for most of her life. She didn’t realize it at the time, but she has never felt as content as she does right now, running away with a boy she has hardly known for a few weeks, and still it works out. So far.

“No,” Murphy replies flat out, their eyes locking. Naia smiles softly.

“Me too,” she adds, picking up another berry. But before she can pop it into her mouth, Murphy’s lips capture hers and she sighs into the kiss. He pulls back before she can kiss him back properly. Then, Murphy steals the berry from between her fingers. “Hey!” Naia protests playfully, but before she can snatch it back, Murphy has already eaten it. He grins at her.

“You’re awful, you know that, right?” Naia says with a grin to mirror Murphy’s, picking up her half-finished strip of meat again and bites off another piece.

“Not as awful as you,” Murphy teases back, nudging her shoulder with his fist.

“Shof op,” Naia says before she laughs.

The darkness devours everything around them, and soon, they can’t even see each other. The rain still hasn’t stopped. Their food is gone, only some crumbs left, and the hike takes its toll on the two teens. Naia stifles a yawn, dropping her head down on the ferns.

“Come on, let’s sleep. We need the energy for tomorrow,” the girl says, and she feels Murphy shuffle next to her.

“Right. Goodnight,” Murphy says, drawing the blanket closer around him, and Naia does the same with her fur. Moments later, her eyes fall shut and she asleep.

*

Naia wakes up with my head nestled against Murphy’s arm, the boy still fast asleep. The rain stopped sometime along the night and now the birds are singing. Judging from the dull light filling the woods, the sun is obscured by thin clouds. The girl closes her eyes again, letting her head rest against Murphy’s arm a bit longer. They are almost there, although she wonders why they haven’t come across any guards or warriors of the Delmava Clan yet. But they probably will soon enough.

The grumbling of her stomach makes Naia get up. She decides to let the boy sleep a bit longer. They’ll have a long hike ahead of them today but it’s not like they have to hurry.

Naia fetches her bow from the end of the shelter and slings the strap of the quiver across her chest, making her way through the underbrush. Not much later, she comes across the first game worth shooting: a rabbit is nibbling on some grass, his ears turning to this and that direction. Naia carefully draws an arrow out of her quiver and takes aim, her breathing shallow. She focuses on the rabbit’s movements, scuttling this and that way, until it finally holds still. Just as Naia is about to release the arrow, the snapping of a branch behind her makes her turn around in the blink of an eye, ready to shoot any threat.

“Woah, easy there warrior,” Murphy says, his hands held up, his face kind of frozen in shock. Naia releases her breath and lowers her bow.

“You do realize I was just about to shoot us something to eat, right?” she states, her stomach grumbling only for her to hear. She shoots a look over her shoulder, but of course the rabbit is gone.

“Sorry,” Murphy says and steps closer. “I just wondered where you’ve gone.”

Naia lowers her bow completely and relaxes a bit.

“I woke up hungry so I figured I could get us something for breakfast.” She shrugs her shoulders once, chewing on the inside of her lip.

“Yeah, I’m hungry too,” Murphy says and looks around. “Can I help with something or…?”

“Yes,” Naia nods and points at the woods behind him. “I saw some apple and pear trees on my way here, there’re probably still some fruits on them. You can also find elder-, cran-, blue- and raspberries around this time of the year. And mushrooms. Just take your bag and collect whatever edible-looking you can find, but wait until I come back. I don’t want you to die because you eat any toxic berries. There are a lot of these around.”

Murphy gapes at her for a second before he gathers himself and nods, turning around to get his bag. Naia watches his back until he disappears between the trees and so she turns around again, trying to find another rabbit or anything that’s worth risking an arrow for.

Some ten minutes later she spots the brown fur of a deer, but she lets it go. It’s better to shoot a rabbit every other day and being able to eat all of its meat than having to think about what to do with the spare meat of a deer. But just some minutes later, a rabbit crosses her path. It didn’t see her. Naia holds her breath as she draws her bow, taking aim. Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in – shoot.

She misses. The small game scurries away, terrified. Naia curses as she retraces the arrow, placing it back in her quiver. She wanders through the woods, cautious not to snap any twigs or step on any brittle leaves, not making any sounds. And her caution is rewarded just some minutes later: a hare hides in the underbrush, its back to her. The girl takes aim and doesn’t waste time.

The arrow buries itself in the neck of the animal, killing it instantly.

Naia smiles to herself as she slings the bow over her shoulder and goes to collect the dead game, pulling the arrow from its flesh. Holding the hare up by its hind legs, she inspects the animal.

“Nice,” she says and turns around to make her way back to their makeshift camp. She doesn’t see Murphy as she crosses the wood and he isn’t at their tent either, so Naia decides to just get going. Searching through her bag, she quickly finds the rope she packed and hangs up the carcass a dozen feet away from their tent, cutting off its head to let it bleed out. Then she cuts off a piece of their tent tarp to have a somewhat clean surface to work on. Next she fetches her water pouch and collects water at the shore. It’ll have to do.

When Naia comes back, a small puddle of blood has formed underneath the hare, but she doesn’t pay any attention to it. Instead, she quickly skins the hare, getting all of its organs out then. She’s hungry, and she wants to have the meat ready as quickly as possible. Just as she scoops up the organs to get rid of them to not draw any animals, the cracking of twigs makes her turn around.

“Holy shit, Naia,” Murphy exclaims, his eyes wide open in shock.

“What?” she asks, wondering what set him off.

“Your face. You’re covered in blood,” he explains, pointing at her face.

As she frowns, Naia registers the sticky feeling on her forehead. She must have wiped it with her bloody hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice I did that,” she apologizes before she takes a few steps and throws the organs into the woods. Turning around, she asks: “Did you find anything?”

Murphy’s eyes are fixed for a few more moments on her bloody face before he tears them away and slides his backpack off his one shoulder, opening it. Naia steps closer and peers inside. It’s full of fruits.

“Good work. These will last for a few days at least.” When the girl looks up at him, he’s already looking at her. She smirks. “Now will you gather some branches for a fire?”

Murphy doesn’t even nod, just zips his backpack and gets to work. Naia watches him for a second before she turns to the hare lying on the tarp. She still needs to rinse it properly. As she does it, she also gets the blood off her face, her fingers coming away heavy with the red fluid first, but with the next scrub, it’s almost gone. She grabs the hare’s legs and with the last bit from the pouch she rinses the tarp on which she then lays it back before she wants to set out to find a branch to impale it with to hold it over the fire. But just as she turns around, she finds Murphy sitting by the fire – obviously he found the matches in her bag -, holding a sharpened and decorticated branch in his hand.

“I thought you’d might need something like this?” he says and twirls the branch in his hand, grinning at her.

“Did you think so?” she teases him as she picks up the hare again and walks over to Murphy. The game dangles before his face the way she stands in front of him, and she can see that he is not used to seeing dead game so close. “Just give me the stick,” she says and smiles.

Seconds later, the hare is impaled and with two additional sticks left and right of the fire, they can put their breakfast over it. Naia sits down next to Murphy.

“So, fruits?” she inquires, eying the boy’s bag next to him and he fetches it, putting it down between them. Together, they search through it. Most of it are apples, a few pears, and also loads of cranberries in the front pocket. “Good job,” the girl says when they are done, grabbing a pear and biting into it. The juice runs down her chin, it’s that succulent. Naia closes her eyes for a second and relishes the taste, moaning in the back of her throat. “You want a bite?” she asks Murphy when she opens her eyes again, holding out the pear to him. He nods and takes it, and in the moments he holds it, Naia turns the hare to roast it evenly.

“I didn’t know something could taste this good,” he mumbles through the fruit in his mouth and his chin, too, is full of juice.

“Eat it up,” Naia offers, looking at him on her left and she can see the gratitude in his eyes. But also the hesitation. “Go. We have more than enough.”

With those words, and the girl’s smile, Murphy digs in. Naia watches him amused.

Sitting in silence side by side, Naia roasts the hare on the stick, the outside turning first a faint gold and later a luscious gold-brown. The girl tears a strip of meat from it, the heat steaming from the piece in her fingers as she blows against it, trying to cool it down. Next to her, Murphy leans forward and tears off a strip for himself. They chew in silence for a minute before the girl tears off another bit.

“Good work,” Murphy breaks the silence and gets another bit for him, a quarter of the hare already stripped of its meat.

“No big deal,” Naia brushes it off, reaching into the bag between them to get an apple from it and biting into it. It’s old, one side already mushy and the rest of it quite soft already, but it’s sweet so she eats all of it.

Half an hour later, only the bones of the hare remain and Naia stamps out the fire, Murphy all the while beginning to pack their things. Since they’re already on the peninsula, Naia figures that it can’t take that much longer to get to the east coast of it, where, her mother told her, the Delmava Clan resides. One or two days maybe, three at most.

They walk until it begins to dawn, repeating the routine from the morning (kind of): Naia sets out to find game, and Murphy erects their shelter after a short description from the girl. When Naia returns about an hour later, a small fire is already crackling so that it doesn’t take long until they can eat. It doesn’t rain again, much to their liking, and it stays dry until the mid-afternoon two days later. So they stop for the day, even though it stops shortly after, but their makeshift tent is already in place.

“Is it just me or are the woods getting lighter?” Murphy asks when they sit side by side in front of the fire, knees tucked in under their arms before their chest and the boy’s blanket draped across their backs, watching the night sky. Well, Murphy’s more watching Naia than he does the sky.

“Yes, I thought so too when we were wal… quick, look!” Naia gasps and points her finger at the sky. The blanket slides off their backs.

“What?” Murphy asks, following the direction Naia is pointing at.

“A shooting star. It’s gone.” Sighing, she looks away from the sky and at the boy next to her.

“You should make a wish on it,” Murphy says.

“A wish?” Naia asks, knitting her eyebrows.

“Old… old custom,” he explains curtly, his eyes catching on her lips. The girl smiles at him, lowering her chin down on her arms.

“We’re almost there, you know?” she says, feeling the lump in her throat at the approaching uncertainty of _what could happen_.

“I know,” Murphy replies flatly, mirroring her action, still looking at her. Their sides touch when Naia shuffles nearer to him, sending a tingling feeling down her spine. Bridging the remaining distance between them, the girl captures his lips, placing a soft kiss on them. And as Naia’s lips connect with Murphy’s, the latter increases the pressure on her lips, his hand finding its way onto her cheek like before. The girl smiles into the kiss, leaning more against Murphy, but their kisses remain light and chaste. The fire crackles in the background, the heat keeping them warm. Murphy’s fingertips feel soft on her skin, running across it, and Naia really doesn’t want this to end. And maybe it won’t.

*

Early the next morning they pack their stuff. The smell of saltwater now heavily tinges the air and most of the trees are pines with a few birches here and there, a distinct sign for sandy foil which is typical for coast regions. With their bags slung over their shoulders, they head towards the sun to the east. The woods become thicker again, the treetops blocking out the sun that sporadically comes out behind the clouds when suddenly, Murphy stops.

“You hear that?” he asks and Naia stops too, turning around to him. She listens hard. And yes, there is it – really faint, but unmistakably.

“Waves,” she breathes and looks at Murphy, a smile spreading across her face. His face mirrors hers. “We’re almost there!”

She bobs on the balls of her feet before she takes his hand and pulls him with her.

The woods lighten the louder the sound of the waves get and their excitement rises. They jog like this for a couple dozen meters before an unfamiliar voice stops them.

“Hod op!”

Naia unlatches their hands and hits Murphy square in the chest to keep him from going any further.

“Peaceful, huh?” he whispers, but Naia scans the woods around them.

Then, without a sound, two people appear from behind two trees. Their clothes are a lot lighter in color as well as in making than those of the Trigedakru who mostly wear black and dark earth colors, and they only carry short daggers like Naia.

“Chon yu bilaik?” one of them, a man, probably in his late twenties, asks, but it doesn’t really sound resentful.

“Ai laik Naia kom Trigedakru, en dison laik ai lukot, John kom Skaikru,” Naia responds calmly. “Oso don gaf gon Delmavakru; yu laik Delmavakru?”

“Sho, oso laik Delmavakru. Hod up hir, Naia kom Trigedakru en John kom Skaikru. Osir lida na hit yo op soun. Beja drop daun yo gon gon graun.”

Naia nods and pulls her dagger from its sheath, throwing it into the soft grass to their feet. The guards eye them for another second before they turn around and walk away.

“The hell did you guys just talk about?” Murphy hushes as Naia pulls the bow over her head and lets it fall next to her dagger, the quiver following.

“They asked who we are, so I told them and said that we’re looking for the Delmava Clan. They told us that they are indeed of the Delmava Clan, and that we have to put our weapons to the ground. Their leader will welcome us soon.”

Murphy gapes at her.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Naia repeats, smirking. “Peaceful, huh?” Murphy grins at her before he looks down at his feet. “Put down your knife, John,” Naia says emphatically and he follows her order.

“Isn’t it a bit careless of them to just walk away and leave us here like that? I mean, we could be assassins for all they know.”

Naia fixes him with her eyes.

“I bet they have more guards in this forest, and they are watching us right now. Also, assassins don’t run into their enemy’s territory making a ruckus like we did.”

A flitter of hurtful emotions cross Murphy’s face and Naia knows that he thinks of the time in her village when Finn killed all those people.

*

They wait for half an hour before movement in the woods in front of them catches their eye. Mere moments later, three figures appear from behind the bushes – the two guards from earlier and a woman, walking between them. Her long, straight blonde hair cascades down her chest over the fur she slung over her shoulders. Her clothes, too, are mostly of light colors like those of the guards, but parts of her dress shine in a dark plum tone.

Naia and Murphy don’t dare to move. But then the leader gives her two guards a sign with her hand and they stop in their track while she keeps walking towards the two, for her, strangers.

“Mounin,” she says, her voice with a warm roughness to it, and stretches out her arms to her sides. She smiles faintly. “Ai sen in bilaik yu gaf gon Delmavkru; ste bilaik ridiyo30?”

“Sho, heda kom Delmavakru31,” Naia responds and bows her head. Murphy double-takes, confused, before he quickly follows her example.

A warm, ringing laugh makes both of them look up again.

“You two are well-behaved,” the leader continues, a smile still on her face, switching to regular English. Naia and Murphy stand up straight again. “My name is Luna. Your names are Naia and John?” The teens nod. “You must have had a long journey here. Come with me, we will talk on the way. Leave your weapons, the guards will collect them and bring them to the village if we decide that you will stay.”

The two teenagers share a long look, both surprised about the warm welcome, before they walk towards Luna, who turns around as soon as they are on one level and leads them through the woods. She holds her arms before her stomach, her head held high. Although she is the same height as Murphy, she appears to be larger, with the air that surrounds her.

“You told my guards that your friend is one of the Sky People,” Luna says, turning to Naia. “Our messengers told us about them, but I would have never thought that an alliance between them and your people would be possible. But here you are, the two of you.” She looks over at Murphy. “What brings you here?”

“Uhm… we didn’t fit in, I guess?” Murphy tries when Luna doesn’t take her eyes off of him.

“It was my idea, originally,” Naia adds quickly, and Luna turns her head to her.

“Oh, is that so?” the leader inquires, eyebrows raised curiously, and Naia nods.

“My mother always told me how I was too soft for the lives we had to lead, and as much as I tried to fit in, it never fulfilled me,” the girl explains, her hand searching for the shaft of her dagger to close her hand around it, but of course it is gone. Luna nods once before she looks at Murphy on her other side.

“And you, young man? What made you abandon your old life?”

Naia can see that he’s chewing on the inside of his bottom lip; knows that he hates to talk about what he had done since he came down to earth. But the girl doesn’t come to his help for she knows that Luna’s question is only meant to understand why they are here now.

“I let my rage consume me, made mistakes that I can never atone for because of it. I had no friends and the friends I thought I had turned against me. I had nothing to lose, really. That’s when Naia came along.” The girl can feel the heat creeping up her neck and involuntarily she smiles, quickly looking down at her boots.

“I can see that you two understand each other on a deep level, and it makes me happy to see that you found each other. But why did you choose this way, to us?” the leader asks, looking first at Murphy and then at Naia.

“My mother told me about your clan,” Naia explains, the red fortunately not in her cheeks anymore. “That you are peaceful and were the first to join the coalition when it was established. It was the best and, frankly, the only choice we had, so we gave it a shot.”

“I understand,” Luna says calmly, rounding a heap of bushes. “And I am glad that you found your way here, to us. How long did it take you to get here?”

“About two weeks,” Naia says and Luna nods again.

“That must have been exhausting,” the leader acknowledges. “I was told that you had a bow with you, Naia. Were you trained in your village?”

The sound of the waves are unmistakably now and not so far ahead, Murphy sees that the trees suddenly end.

“Yes, I was,” the girl says. “It was the fury over the murder of my best… my best friend that fueled my desire to become a true warrior, but I realized that fury isn’t the best advisor, and that it wasn’t what I truly wanted. Still, the training has taught me many valuable things.”

“I believe that you can continue your training here if we decide that you can stay, if you wish. But good hunters and fisher are always needed as well, so I believe we will find a place for you.”

Murphy and Naia exchange a quick glance. The way in which Luna speaks sounds like it’s only a matter of formalities before they become members of the village, and the prospect of it really being like this makes both of them smile.

The trees come to an end and they stop before a rampart studded with bulrushes, and Luna turns around to them.

“We will now enter the village and I will bring you into the house where we hold the council of elders. We will then decide if you are free to stay. I believe it will be a quick decision.”

She then turns around with a smile and after a few meters, they trespass an open gate in the rampart and suddenly they find themselves amidst a clutter of small wooden houses with thatch and grass roofs. Voices from every direction fill the air, but rather muffled like they come from inside the houses or further away. Walking along a wooden path between the houses, they soon reach a small square with one house that’s significantly bigger than the other houses on the one side. Two guards stand on each side of the door, nodding as Luna leads them inside.

“Please wait while I fetch the other council members,” she instructs before she leaves. The teens sit down on a bench as the door falls shut.

Some minutes after they sit down, Murphy begins to flounce and nervously fidgets his right leg, simultaneously chewing on his bottom lip and looking around the house Luna has brought them into. Naia has never seen him like that.

“Hey,” she hushes and looks at him, nudging his shoulder with hers. His head turns to her and she sees the worry in his eyes. “Everything is going to be okay.” She’s not sure if she’s telling it for herself to believe, too.

Light floods the room as the door is opened and the two look over to the opening. Luna comes inside, followed by two men and two women. Naia pulls Murphy to his feet and they wait, standing, until the councilors come to a halt in front of them. The girl bows her head and Murphy mirrors her action.

“Welcome to Lewes,” the man with a flock of white hair around his head and a red and white headband starts. “I am Russell and the oldest of this council.” He steps forward and takes Naia’s hands in his. He’s even smaller than her, his back hunched.

“Thank you,” Naia responds, smiling. The man… Russell reminds her of her father’s father. “I am Naia, and this is my friend, John.”

Russell looks over to Murphy before he lets go off Naia’s hands and shuffles over to the boy. He inhales sharply when Russell reaches out for his hand and the man looks up into his eyes, stopping in his tracks, and studies the boy. Naia watches the interaction interested.

“You have seen terrible things,” Russell croaks after a few silent moments. “I see it in your eyes and the way you move. But we mean you no harm,” he says and finally takes Murphy’s hand, laying his other atop the boy’s. He holds it for a short while, not saying a word, before he lets go and steps back into the row of the council members. Naia hears the suppressed breath Murphy exhales.

“My name is Crawford, I am the blacksmith of this village,” the man next to Russell introduces himself, and Naia looks over to him. He too has white hair, but a full beard and looks several, if not ten years younger than Russell. A dirty-white fur is slung over his light blue shirt and he wears several rings on his fingers. He gestures over to the woman standing beside him. “And this is my sister, Tamera.”

Naia looks over to her. Tamera’s hair, long and in two braids, is only beginning to grey at the roots, so she assumes the woman is younger than her brother.

“Mounin,” she says and bows her head, and in the change of light, Naia sees that blades of grass are woven into the braids.

“And my name is Elea,” the last woman ends the introduction. She wears a bonnet and an excessive amount of chaplets hangs down the front of her dress.

“Let us sit down,” Luna then takes the floor and Naia and Murphy sit down on the bench behind them and the members of the council on another bench in front of them. Luna smiles at the teens before she turns to her people. “So, I believe this will be an easy council meeting. Naia and John came here alone, after a journey of a fortnight, and laid down their weapons when our warriors told them to.”

“They could be spies,” Tamera interrupts, inspecting the girl and the boy. “They could have more people following them. It would be a mistake to accept them into our village!” Her face is anything but nice now. Luna looks at Tamera, her face unmoving.

“Your fear is taking you over,” the leader responds, her voice cold.

“I agree with you, lida32,” Russell speaks up, looking from Murphy to Luna and back at his people. “They are almost still kids, and before you interrupt me, Tamera,” he says calmly, holding up his hand in her direction, “I am aware that it is often kids that are sent as spies. But when you are as old as I am, you can tell if someone is a spy from looking into their eyes. These two are not.”

“Wise words, wise words,” Crawford drones, his hands firmly on his knees. A smile is forming behind his thick mustache. “And even if they did have other people following them, sister – our woods are packed with warriors. We are safe.”

“We came alone,” Murphy pipes up and Naia’s eyes snap to him. You do not speak up in a council unless you’re asked. “We almost got killed by the acid fog, alright? And it wasn’t easy to get here. My feet hurt, and I’m a dirty, stinking mess, so please, don’t accuse us of being spies.”

“That’s exactly what a spy would say,” Tamera hisses.

“Nof33!” Luna says calm, but firmly, and Tamera tears her eyes away from Murphy. The tension in the air intensifies as Luna and the other woman have a silent fight with their eyes. Finally, Tamera nods. Luna takes a deep breath and turns to the older woman sitting next to her. “Elea, what is your opinion?”

She says nothing for a few moments, fixing first Naia, then Murphy with her gaze. Eventually, she looks at the leader again.

“I believe them, and Russell’s and your judgment. I vote for accepting them. They are young, and they will help our village grow, one way or another.”

“Tamera?” Luna asks once Elea finished, looking at the second woman.

“No,” she draws out, shooting a sideway look at Luna, but the latter doesn’t show any reaction to the decision.

“Crawford, do you agree with your sister?” Luna continues. The bearded man laughs, booming.

“Agree? No. I want to see how capable these two are.” He smiles, the rings on his fingers glistening in the shine of the candles. Naia unconsciously reaches out for Murphy, her hand finding his knee. She looks at him, her face split into a hoping smile.

“And I believe I can take it that you, Russell, vote to accept Naia and John as well?” Luna says in a hopeful tone, leaning forward, her eyes glistening.

“You assumed rightly, lida,” Russell answers and Luna clasps her hands together, turning to the two teens with a wide smile.

“Welcome to Lewes… again,” she laughs, standing up and opening up her arms to her sides. “We will have a reception with the rest of the village now. Please follow me.” And turning to the members of the council: “Please gather our people.”

Naia’s hand is still on Murphy’s knee and his hand closes around hers when they rise to follow Luna, who looks at them expectantly. But they follow her and step outside. The sky cleared up a bit and white, puffy clouds lazily cross the blue. The sound of the waves is now loud again, no longer muffled by the wooden walls of the house. Naia takes a deep breath.

“It never smells like that in the forest,” she sighs, and Luna looks back at her.

“It is nice, isn’t it?” she responds before she turns to the front again and looks up at the sky. “But rain and storms, yes, that is not so nice here, without the cover of the forest.”

Murphy chuckles.

After crossing a few houses, they come to an open space, larger than the one in front of the house of the council, in what Naia assumes is the middle of the village. Benches with half-finished wicker baskets litter the side of one of the houses, and Murphy’s eyes linger on them for a few moments before someone brushes him – someone small. And the next one half barges into him.

“Hey… what?” he exclaims, raising his arms to steady himself. His eyes follow the running figures. Two small boys, maybe five or six years old, run around the space, the one trying to catch the other. He’s seriously baffled for a moment.

“Jon, Kamden, ste raun!” a woman calls and Murphy turns around. She just stepped outside the door of one house and wears a long blue dress, a belt slung around her hips and a small knife in a sheath dangling from it.

“Heya Manila,” Luna greets her and the woman’s eye fall on Luna. She bows her head curtly with a smile.

“Heya lida,” she greets back before she picks up one of the baskets standing in front of her house and makes her way over to the two boys still running around the space.

Luna heads over to the front of the biggest house just as a pool of people pours into the opening from the other side of it.

“Why are there so many kids?” Murphy asks bewildered and now Naia sees them too. A whole flock of them, maybe two or three dozen, suddenly run around, the two boys from earlier among them. The smallest of them only toddle around slowly, their little chubby hands stretched out before them, while the bigger ones chase one after another, screaming and laughing. Luna surveys Murphy and Naia amused.

“I take it there weren’t as many children where you came from?” she asks, turning to Murphy, and he looks at her, surprised.

“I was locked up since I was 8, so no, I’m not used to seeing that many kids.”

Luna’s eyebrows scrunch for a second before she lays a hand on Murphy’s shoulder.

“Well, you won’t be locked up here.”

“Better be, I didn’t come all the way here to be treated like dirt again,” he tries to brush it off, shrugging, but Luna doesn’t take her hand off his shoulder. Still more people are pouring into the site. Naia sees their eyes on them, some crossing their arms with furled eyebrows, but most faces are open and curious, in a good way. When she looks over at Murphy and Luna, the latter just takes her hand off the boy’s shoulder and turns to the crowd. She gestures for them to quiet down.

“Kru kom Luis,” Luna speaks up and everybody else looks at her respectfully. “Today we welcome two new members to our village: Naia, from the people of Tondc, and John, from the Sky People. They undertook the journey here to find a more peaceful life, and I am sure we can make it worth their way.”

Silence follows. Luna lets her gaze wander over her people, from one side to the other, and suddenly, a murmur starts which quickly increases into friendly shouts.

“Heya, heya! Welcome! Heya!”

“Woah this is… overwhelming,” Murphy says as he gapes at the crowd. Naia looks over at him in wonder. This is what life should be about.

As the shouts die away, villager after villager come forward, shaking Naia’s and Murphy’s hands and kissing foreheads. Last in row is Crawford.

“Tonight, I will take you to my house to spend the night, if you agree,” Crawford offers, and Naia feels Luna’s gaze on the two of them.

“But what about Tamera?” Naia asks, unsure.

“Oh no, we don’t share a house, if that’s what you mean,” he explains and laughs. “I moved out as soon as I married my wife. Not to mention that this is what we do anyway.”

“Thank God, I don’t think I could bear her judging gaze just now,” Murphy throws in and a second later, Crawford places his hand on the boy’s shoulder. This seems to be something that is done a lot around here, Murphy figures.

“She will loosen up with time. It’s good to have someone to remind you of the dangers from time to time, but in this case, it was unnecessary.”

“Unless you prove us otherwise,” Luna adds. “Which would be a shame because you seem like you have good hearts.”

“We won’t,” Murphy quickly says and Naia knows why he does: he wants to belong somewhere, finally, and he will try is best not to ruin it. She wants to belong, too.

“Well then, will you come with me?” Crawford asks with a smile and Naia and Murphy follow with one last look at Luna, who too smiles at them. Murphy is a bit creeped out, to tell the truth, but mostly because he could never imagine that people could be _that_ nice.

Following the blacksmith, they cross the village until they stop at what seems to be the edge of the village. A few more houses stand at a distance, large spaces between them. Crawford points at one of them.

“That is my blacksmith shop where I spend most of my days. But enough of that, let’s get you inside!” Swinging the door of the hut to their right open, the three of them are greeted with chatter which then ceases.

“Crawford,” a woman says and stands up, coming towards them. The blacksmith motions for them to step inside, so they do. Inside, the room is lit with candles and a square hole in the roof lets in additional light.

“This is my wife, the beautiful Ries,” Crawford says behind them, meaning the woman in front of them with smooth grey hair that’s secured in a braid that falls over her shoulder. “These are my sons York and Grand and their wives; and these are my grandchildren, Piper and Savannah. Family, this are Naia and John as you surely know.”

Crawford’s family greets the two teens, the two girls barely reaching to their hips when they sling their arms around Murphy’s and Naia’s legs in a hug. The latter laughs and strokes the little girls’ hair. Crawford’s low chuckle makes the girl look up from the smaller ones.

“And now that everyone knows everyone – what do you say to a nice, warm soup to bolster you up?” the bearded man asks and right on cue, Murphy’s stomach grumbles loudly.

“Yes please,” he says and everyone laughs. Seconds later, there’s a clutter of wooden bowls and metal spoons and when Naia is given one of each utensil, she notices that the end of the spoon is decorated with a filigree pattern which must be the work of the blacksmith. And now Naia also observes the delicious smell that fills the hut and notices the metal bowl hanging over the fire underneath the hole in the roof. Ries then takes a wooden trowel and dips it into the soup, filling her children’s bowls with it. A bit insecure, the teens linger at the edge of the scene, but Crawford dissipates their doubts by just taking their bowls and getting them filled, then thrusting them back into their hands, adding “Before you starve” in a cheerful tone. The teens exchange just one quick glance before they dig in since everybody else already started eating, simultaneously almost burning their mouths and then slowing down.

“This is really good,” Naia remarks when her stomach is filled enough and her bowl almost empty and she sees Murphy scoop the rest of the soup out of his bowl eagerly.

“You can have a second helping if you wish,” Ries says and offers her hand to take their bowls to refill.

“Yes please,” Murphy says and almost stumbles on his words, and Naia bites her lip as she smiles.

“For me too, please,” the girl adds as Ries refills Murphy’s bowl and the woman smiles at her.

“Of course. There’s plenty there and we don’t want it to go bad. Here you go,” she says and hands the bowl back to Naia. This time, both Murphy and Naia take their time to blow on the hot soup and to eat with relish. Before they can finish, York and Grand and their families say goodbye, the two girls already outside and running around playing catch, which leaves only Crawford and his wife and the two teens behind.

“I am certain you will become happy here,” Crawford breaks the short silence after the door falls shut before he looks at Murphy. “You seem like an agile young man, you would make a good hunter. I can introduce you to the chief of hunters, if you wish.”

Naia can almost sense the spinning in Murphy’s head at everything they already experienced today, the kindness and acceptance.

“I will have to think about it,” Murphy replies, but after a second his face falls and he quickly adds “If that’s okay, of course.” Crawford just smiles at him.

“It is. First you need a home for yourself and then you need to get accustomed to the village life. That’s when we can worry about how you can contribute to this village.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 I was told you are looking for the Delmava Clan; is that true?  
> 31 Yes, Leader of the Delmava Clan.  
> 32 Enough – Boat Grounder dialect  
> 33 Leader – Boat Grounder dialect


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY has this been a ride. But it is finally done. I finally finished the last chapter. I am so sorry I kept you waiting this long, but now you get almost 6k to read. I hope you like the end!

After the strengthening meal, Crawford tells them to explore the village and to come back later, so that’s how the two find themselves between the wooden houses, wandering aimlessly around. Naia feels strangely out of place with her black, thick clothing, and she’s pretty sure that Murphy must feel even more like that, his clothes so very different from those of the Delmavakru. But almost nobody seems to mind, or worse, to be resentful towards them. There are maybe two handful of people who eye them with knitted eyebrows as they pass, but in a village of maybe 200 or 300 people, this really isn’t much.

“I guess my mother was right after all,” Naia says as they walk along a particularly quiet alley, the sound of the waves a constant background noise they don’t really notice anymore. But suddenly, another noise startles them, and they look at each other confused. Without saying a word, they follow the sound until they come to a fenced area that is filled with a flock of animals, small and full of wool and some of them with horns, bleating.

“What are these?” Naia asks confused, gripping the wood of the fence and inspecting the animals. Somewhere deep in the back of Murphy’s brain, a picture from his earth skills biology classes appears. He didn’t think he’d ever have to remember one of those facts.

“Sheep. Didn’t you have them around your village?” he asks, intrigued.

“No,” Naia answers, watching the animals. “They look so… soft.”

“That’s because their wool is used to produce clothing,” an unfamiliar voice suddenly says and Naia and Murphy turn toward it. It’s a middle-aged woman in leather clothing, her hands on her hips and her hair short, brushed behind her ears. “My name’s Brazi, I’m the shepherdess.” She bows her head and Naia and Murphy mirror her action. “Speaking of clothes,” Brazi continues when they look up again, “it looks like you could use some new ones. Your clothes are far too heavy for the current temperatures.” The woman has an air of harsh honesty about her, and doesn’t seem _too_ friendly, but the fact that she talks to them tells the teens that she isn’t one of those who don’t approve of them being here. And she is right – Naia can already feel the sweat forming under her clothes, her thick jacket keeping all the heat inside, which was crucial living in the woods, but obviously not here. At least not yet.

“You are right,” Naia says and begins to peel her thick jacket off of herself. “I don’t know how we will get new, better clothes for this climate, though.” Holding her jacket over her folded arms before her chest, she feels more than sees Murphy squirm next to her. She shoots him a confused look but he doesn’t notice. Naia wonders what’s wrong.

“Luna will find a way,” Brazi says and smiles faintly, putting her hand on her hip. “She has a big heart.”

“We noticed,” Murphy chimes into the conversation and _now_ Naia sees him fidget with his fingers.

“Hey,” Naia whispers and turns to him, taking his hands with one of hers. “Are you okay?” Brazi is eyeing them with concern, but Naia doesn’t take her eyes off of her friend.

“I don’t know. I know I should be, but I can’t shake the feeling we’ll end up on a stake if we put one toe out of line,” he responds hoarsely, glancing at Brazi.

“We won’t. Okay?” Naia says, trying to calm him down. “We’ll build a house and you’ll be a hunter and I’ll be a warrior and it will be okay.”

The scrunching of feet on the ground announced that Brazi is coming closer. She keeps her distance, though.

“We had a few people over the last years who came here from other clans. One or two crossed the line and we expelled them, forbidding them to come back. We are not fond of torture and execution. If you break one of the village’s rules, you _will_ be punished, but the punishment is mostly work detail.”

Naia, who looked at Brazi while she spoke, looks back a Murphy, leaning closer to him. He still seems anxious.

“And we won’t cross the line, John. I know we won’t.” She remembers who nervous he was when they waited for the council of elders, but this is different. Naia looks at Brazi apologetically. “He had it rough. He’s not used to this.” To her surprise, Brazi smiles again.

“You will get used to it,” Brazi says, directed at Murphy. He looks up at her and his fingers close firmer around Naia’s. “You can come to me if you have problems; I will listen to you.”

“Thank you,” Murphy squeezes out and Brazi just nods.

“I have to go now.” Without further farewell, she turns around and vanishes between the houses.

Silence stretched between the teens, their hands still entwined.

“All of this seems too easy,” Murphy says, looking at Naia.

“I know you’re scared,” she replies, standing so close now that their noses are only inches apart. “I am too. But we’re in this together. You and me. Okay?”

Murphy gulps and nods, leaning his forehead against Naia’s, closing his eyes. She feels him shiver as he draws a shaky breath.

“Okay,” he finally says and opens his eyes again, leaning back. Naia senses he wants to say something else, but Murphy opens and closes his mouth like a fish. It’s hard saying things sometimes. She knows he will come around. Breaking the embrace of their hands, Naia places her palms on Murphy’s cheeks and holds him still.

“Let’s go to the shore.”

*

The rest of the day passes lazily, meeting other villagers along their walk through the village and finally returning to Crawford’s house (after some search) when the sun begins to set. They eat the same soup as they did for lunch, the flavor even stronger now. Then they sit around the fire underneath the ceiling hole, Crawford informing them about the village life, their people, the rules. As the fire dies down, Murphy and Naia climb onto an intermediate floor right underneath the roof that provides just enough space for both of them. The floor is covered in what Naia assumes are sheep furs, and three woven blankets lie in a neat pile in the middle of the space. It doesn’t take them long to get settled, their boots and jackets stashed away in one corner. And just as Naia is about to fall asleep, she hears a whispered “Thanks for not leaving” mumbled into the darkness.

*

Two days later, Luna meets with them again in the house of the council of elders. None of the other council members are present and Naia wonders what awaits them. Sitting down on the benches, Luna looks at them.

“Winter is slowly approaching, and you need a home. You will have to build a new house for yourselves, but we will assist you,” Luna explains. “The soil is still soft enough for you to build your house. And you’re lucky, we always keep extra trunks for potential repairs from storms and other tempests, and I believe that there is enough spare wood for you.”

Naia gapes at her new leader and she’s pretty sure Murphy looks the same. Building a house wasn’t what she thought Luna wanted to talk to them about.

“Okay, but… how do we build a house?” Murphy asks and Luna nods.

“I already talked to our woodworkers, and three men volunteered to help you. They are waiting outside for you.”

*

“Zeer are severaal vays to build a house,” Cres, a tall and sturdy man with a full beard, says in a heavy accent so that Naia and Murphy have to listen hard to get what he is saying. “You can use loogs,” he gestures to houses on their right, “or planks, or a combination of both. Or you can sink your house into zee ground. Zees are smaller, but less prone tu be damaged in stoorms.”

They walk through the village as Cres tells them about this, heading to the place Luna assigned them to build their house. It’s at the edge of the village as Crawford’s, but closer to the rampart than his. There are about two dozen feet between two of the houses, just big enough to fit a house, similar to the ones around, between them.

“I think we should build the house in the same style as the others,” Naia says, turning her head to Murphy, who eyes the other houses and nods. They are built in a simple, tent-like way with the two sides of the thatch roof reaching down to the ground, a simple door on the front the entrance. Turning to Cres, Naia tells him so.

“Good. Help us bringing zee planks heer.” Even though Cres has a rough air about him, he seems just as nice as all the other villagers they met so far. The teens follow him and the two other woodworkers to the other end of the village where the wood is stored. Murphy and Naia take a plank each while the men take 3 or 4, balancing them on their shoulders. When they get back to their future home spot, sweat drips down from Murphy’s forehead; he underestimated the weight of the plank. Dropping the wood to the ground, he wipes the sweat away with the back of his hand.

“Take off your jacket, boy,” Cres tells him as he puts his planks down, his muscular arms bulging underneath the fabric of his shirt. “You will not need eet.”

Naia shrugs her shoulders at Murphy with a smirk when he looks at her. She didn’t even bring her jacket. He then takes his jacket off and throws it to the side. The cool air immediately chills his hot and sticky skin.

“Now vee need branches,” Cres says curtly to signal the teens to follow them again, and no more than ten minutes later, they begin to build the house. Murphy and Naia try to assist as good as they can, holding planks here and there, bringing hemp ropes to tie the individual branches together and handing the woodworkers their tools. Hour after hour, their house takes more and more shape.

When it is time for lunch, the walls are standing and one side of the roof is already in place.

“You deed good vork,” Cres praises them, standing next to his men, looking at their project.

“How much longer do you think we will need?” Naia asks. As much as she appreciates Crawford’s help, she doesn’t want to wear out his welcome.

“Tomorrow for zee roof, and zeen you vill need furniture. Maybe zree days.”

Feeling Murphy’s arm nudge against hers, Naia looks over at him. His eyes shine.

“Three days, Naia,” he whispers excitedly and Naia can’t help but smile.

“Three days,” she echoes, looking back at their halfway finished house as she takes Murphy’s hand.

*

Other villagers come to help them with their house, providing company and everyday products they are going to need. A fourth woodworker builds them a bed and two other women manufacture their mattress – a simple sack filled with hay and wool. These three days until their house is finished is filled with a bustle of people, coming and going and bringing back even more people. Soon, Naia and Murphy feel like they already know the whole village (at least by sight) and just when their house is finally finished do they realize how they are already integrated in the village life.

As the people begin to leave, Naia and Murphy get the time to properly inspect their new home for the first time. Their bed stands at the far end of the room, a table in front of it. A fireplace is located in the middle of the house, a small hole in the roof above it working as the flue. A wooden chest with a lock of solid metal is standing at one side of the room and Naia suspects it’s for their clothes and other belongings. And as Murphy steps further into the room, he notices that the table next to the bed is cluttered with all kinds of gifts – bowls, wooden and metal cutlery, fictile jugs, furs and wicker baskets. His mouth stands open at the sight.

“We can’t take all this,” he argues, not quite looking away from the objects.

“Yes you can,” Luna suddenly says from the door. Naia and Murphy turn around to her, surprise reflecting on their faces. Luna steps inside. “You have to give back to the village, that’s why you can take all this. Everybody is contributing to the village life, everybody gives something and takes something. And because you are new, you got something first.”

“No, this is all too much,” Murphy protests, but Luna just lays her hand on his shoulder.

“You are not to judge if it is; I am. And it is not.” She fixes Murphy with her gaze for some moments before she turns to Naia, taking her hand off Murphy’s shoulder. “We will give you another day to settle. Please use it to explore the village to find a trade you want to pursue. The sooner you will decide, the sooner you can give back to Lewes.”

With a nod at both of them, Luna departs. But another man is already standing in their doorway. Naia has seem him several times already, he donated one of the fictile jugs. Now he’s standing with a bundle of clothes in his hands, looking unsure whether to enter the house or not.

“Yes?” Naia asks, surveying him.

“I came to bring you this,” he begins, but he shakes his head. “I am sorry. My name is Lotto. I wanted to give this to you, John.”

Upon being addressed, Murphy startles.

“Me?” he asks incredulous.

“Yes,” Lotto confirms, finally stepping into the house. “These are my brother’s clothes. He died on a fishing trip not long ago. Somehow, you… remind me of him. I want you to have these.”

Lotto stretches out his hands to Murphy, who gently takes the bundle of clothes, looking at it dumbstruck. He doesn’t take his eyes off of them for several moments.

“Thank you,” Murphy finally mutters, slowly looking up at Lotto.

“They should fit you,” Lotto instead replies, a look of faint happiness on his face. “You will find me with the other fishermen if you wish to speak to me again,” he adds before he bows his head curtly and heads outside, leaving the door standing open. Naia gazes at the opening, her mind racing.

The life here is such an extreme difference to the life back at her home village. Never would she have expected not having to be cautious all the time, to watch her tongue and her every step. But she found it.

“We found it,” she says, looking over at Murphy. He still holds the clothes, a pile of light grey linen and brown leather.

“What?”

“Happiness.”

*

As it dawns the next day, Murphy and Naia set out separately. Murphy finds his way to the shore and, sure enough, he spots Lotto.

“Hello,” he calls, and the fishermen turn around to see who interrupted them.

“John, I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Lotto says as he wipes his hands on his trousers and stomps up the small strip of beach to meet Murphy at the dune. “What brings you here?”

“Luna told us to choose a profession,” Murphy begins and Lotto starts to smile.

“So you have come to watch us fishermen at work?” he suggests, glancing at the other workers who are beginning to heave a large fishnet into one of the boats. Murphy chews on the inside of his lip.

“Not quite,” he confesses. “I am thankful for the clothes you brought me,” Murphy continues, gesturing down his body. He decided to put on the new clothes this morning and sure enough, he looks exactly like all of the other people in the village. “And yeah, sure, other people have helped us lots too, but… being a fisherman sounds the most interesting.”

Lotto eyes Murphy for a long time before he begins to speak again.

“This is hard work. But we deliver one of the sources of food, so we are much respected,” he explains, taking a few steps to stand next to Murphy so they both can overlook the other fishermen at work. “But since my brother died, we are in need of a new man.” With a meaningful look, he turns his head to Murphy. “Don’t make this decision lightly. We will have to break you in as quickly as possible, and it will be strenuous work.”

Still gazing at the fishermen now beginning to climb into the boats, Murphy nods a few times.

“I’ll do it,” he agrees and looks back at Lotto. The other man smiles at him through his beard.

“Good. We will begin tomorrow. Meet me here at dawn,” Lotto replies and then hurries to meet his fellow workers, getting into one boat before they leave the shore.

Murphy watches as the boats head out onto the open sea, the waves crashing on the wood of the prows. When they are so far out that the men on the boats look like ants, he turns around and decides to find Naia. He walks around the village for quite some time, coming across both Crawford’s blacksmith hut and Luna coming out of the house were they first met the council of elders, but finally finds Naia inside the sheep pen, talking to Brazi. Naia is standing with her back to him, her thick, dark brown dreads secured in a ponytail. But she looks around as the gate creaks when Murphy opens it and smiles at him.

“Guess what?” she calls as he comes closer, turning around.

“Wha-”

“I’m becoming a shepherdess!” Naia interrupts Murphy and beams. He’s speechless for a second, looking at her.

“That’s great,” he finally says, smiling a little bit. “I’m becoming a fisherman.”

 

\--- three months later, january ---

 

“Urgh,” Murphy moans, waking up Naia. She turns her head to look at him. With the closed flue, the room is so dark she can’t even see his face.

“What is it?” she whispers into the darkness, searching for Murphy’s face. Finding it, she palms his cheek.

“Nothing, I’m just achy,” he says and sits up, the furs swishing softly as they slide down his chest.

“You think it’s time to get up already?” Naia asks, bobbing herself up on her elbows. There’s more rustling and then, the door creaks, showing Murphy’s silhouette.

“Yup,” he answers and pulls the door shut again, opening the flue instead to let in light. Cold air slowly floods the room and Murphy puts more wood on the fire which is no more than embers at this point.

“Hand me my shirt, will you?” Naia asks and Murphy fetches the top that hangs over the bench, throwing it in her direction. Her pants follow without asking. When they are dressed, Naia prepares them a breakfast of dried fruit and yoghurt and after half an hour, they’re good to go. Placing the bowls on the edge of the fireplace, Naia follows Murphy outside.

“See you later?” she asks, slinging her arm around the small of his back.

“Mhm,” Murphy murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cheek and winds himself out of the embrace, making his way to the fishermen. Naia watches him concerned. But then Brazi appears behind a house, calling for her, so Naia follows the shepherdess, her breath forming white clouds.

*

“Naia?” someone calls and Naia recognizes it as Arber’s, her neighbor’s, voice. Turning around, she finds her running towards the gate of the fenced area. Naia jogs to meet her. Arber looks concerned, her eyes open wide.

“What’s wrong?” Naia asks as she reaches Arber, examining the other woman’s face.

“It’s John,” Arber breathes. In panic, Naia forcefully yanks the gate open, not caring about the sheep.

“Where is he?” she asks breathlessly.

“They brought him to your house,” Arber says, but Naia is already running, her feet pounding on the snow coated ground. As her house comes into view, Naia is alarmed by the people in front of the door and she skidders to a halt among them.

“John? _John!_ ” she calls and the people, the other fishermen from what Naia can tell, step aside to let her in. Knocking over a wicker basket as she crosses the room, she sinks to her knees beside the bed as she reaches it. “What happened?” Naia asks, her voice nothing but a wheezing whisper. When she strokes away the hair that fell into Murphy’s eyes, she’s startled by his hot forehead.

“It’s nothing,” Murphy responds, his voice noticeably hoarse, and he tries to push himself up, but Naia is faster and presses him back into the mattress.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” she argues, eyeing him concerned. His eyes are red and watery, as if he had cried the whole night.

“I’m okay,” Murphy talks back and Naia furls her eyebrows.

“No, John,” she says insistently.

“Just let me get up, okay? I’m fine. Please, Naia, just… just let me go back to work okay?” he pleads and even in his words can Naia hear the fatigue. Her eyebrows still knitted, she surveys him, searches for a silent answer in his eyes.

“You are sick, John,” she says after some moments of silence, her voice softer again. “Why do you stand on going back to work so much? You can’t work like this.”

“I can’t,” Murphy says, breaking off. His face is contorted in what Naia would describe as pain. She buries her fingers in his hair and takes his hand. Shooting a quick look back at the door, she sees that the other fishermen are still lingering, but as she catches their eye, she mouths “Go” in their direction. When she turns back to Murphy, he doesn’t meet her eye.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he chokes and draws a heavy breath.

“You can’t what?” Naia asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He looks so helpless, the way he’s lying in their bed. Finally, Murphy looks at her again.

“I had the flu,” he begins, and Naia is relieved they are alone now. “I didn’t tell you, when I told you about my parents. My dad, he stole medicine for me. He got floated for it. All because I was sick.”

Naia bites her lip. She sees the tears filling Murphy’s eyes and she knows that whatever she could say wouldn’t help with his pain. But she speaks nonetheless.

“Nobody is going to die this time because you’re sick,” Naia tries to reassure him. And while she didn’t want to remind him of what happened, she had to say it. “But you need to stay in bed, _sweeta_.” Swallowing again, Murphy finally nods and Naia feels him loosen under her touch. She puts another fur on top of his blanket, trapping the heat so he can sweat it all out. “I’ll bring you soup.”

“No, it’s okay,” Murphy responds, but Naia doesn’t take no for an answer. Stopping in the opening of the door, she turns around to him again, one hand on the doorframe.

“Who is the one that grew up on the ground with knowledge on how to best treat this without Ark medicine? Right, me,” she says, almost smiling, before she leaves their house.

*

Murphy tries to convince Naia again and again that he is fit to leave the house, but at the end of the day, he gives up, realizing that she won’t budge. The fact that he’s now also coughing and chilly even underneath all the furs and blankets convinces Murphy that he really can’t work like this, as much has he’d like to. He stays put, sweating like crazy under the blankets, but he trusts Naia. And even more so when she brings Souri, the village’s healer, to take a look at him.

“Ah, as suspected. The flu,” she says after she felt his head, his lymph nodes and made him describe his symptoms. “But not to worry, my dear. If you stay in bed, rest and let Naia take care of you, you will be up and about in no time.”

So he trusts them. He has no other choice, really. And after all the time they spent here, he doesn’t have a reason not to.

So he stays in bed. His bones and muscles keep aching, and his head starts to do too. He also keeps coughing, but the worst of all are the chills and fever. One second he feels like he’s sitting in a sauna, the next, like he’s being thrown into a bucket full of ice water with cold sweat running down his forehead. He’s mostly alone throughout the day as Naia keeps working with the sheep, not because she doesn’t want to be with him, but because she doesn’t want to become infected.

And so the days come and go, and Murphy doesn’t keep track of how many days pass. Only when Naia tells him that a week passed, he begins counting again (mostly because the fever and chills seem to be gone).

And then, on the eleventh day, Murphy wakes up feeling considerably better. The aching in his bones is gone and both his throat and nose feel like they normally would. Murphy considers getting up, but he thinks better of it. Naia and Souri will come to check on him like the other days, and until they do, he can stay where is.

And sure enough, it doesn’t take long until the door opens and Naia and Souri come inside.

“Hello, John. How are you today?” the healer asks, sitting down at the edge of the bed and feeling his forehead.

“Good,” he responds truthfully. “I think I’m well again.”

Naia looks at him over the shoulder of Souri, smiling.

“I think so too,” Souri says as she feels the lymph nodes under his jaw, and Murphy looks at her with wide eyes. “You have been getting better for the past days, and seeing as you are in the mood to get up, I am willing to let you. Your symptoms are gone, but be aware that you are still enfeebled. Work only as much as you can; rest, drink and eat enough; and keep yourself warm and dry. You should be good then,” she concludes. She exits their house without further ado, leaving Naia and Murphy alone. Naia goes to sit down where Souri just did, taking Murphy’s hands as she does so.

“I told you, nobody was going to die. Nobody else got sick, even,” she says, smiling, before she bends down to kiss him. Murphy closes his eyes as her soft lips meet his. They don’t kiss often, being content with each other’s company and the more innocent displays of affection like holding hands and hugging, but they haven’t kissed since he fell ill, and to speak the truth, he did miss it.

Murphy runs his hand along Naia’s jawline, holding her close for just a few more moments before they break apart. He realizes he smiles.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Naia says, kissing his cheek.

“Me too,” he responds, chuckling, before he finally gets up. “I think a bath would do me good.” Although he did change his clothes while he was sick, he didn’t get the chance to take a bath, and he never felt this filthy in his life, except maybe during the first days on earth.

“I will go with you,” Naia says, surprising him. She smirks at him, lacing her fingers through his after he put on his boots, taking two of their towels. They have never been to the bath house together before, but Murphy would never say no to that.

Crossing the village together, he sees that the snow still covers the whole area. But the paths through the village are cleaned of the snow and strewn with hay so that the muddy ground doesn’t soak into their shoes. Just a couple of minutes later, they reach the bath house and enter it, immediately encased by the warm air inside.

“Mhhh,” Naia hums and closes her eyes, taking off her thick scarf. Going through another door, they find themselves in the changing area. There’s a rack above an arrangement of hot stones in the middle of the room that will warm up their clothes as they bathe. Getting undressed, they hang their clothes over the rods. Murphy remembers that when he first went here, it took him a massive amount of overcoming before he got rid of all his clothes. But the more often he visited the bath house, the less awkward he felt. He realized that nobody even seemed to look at him, and if they did, not differently than outside the bath house. Although it was still weird seeing his neighbors, peers and even the council members naked. But now, after three months in the village, he didn’t question this anymore (partly because if he wanted to take a real, hot bath and not just rub himself clean with a wet cloth inside his house, he had to come here).

He watched Naia as she took off her clothes, her fair skin appearing as she removed the fabric. He almost forgot that he still had his pants and shoes to take off so he hurried to do so and thus missed Naia doing the same. When he looked up again, she already had one of their towels wrapped around her body, ready to go into the next room to finally bathe. Murphy sighed inaudible, taking he second towel and slinging it around his hips, following her.

*

Naia and Murphy spend more time than necessary in one of the bathtubs. Their water is beginning to go cold, now only lukewarm at best, but they rarely feel this comfortable. Murphy lays behind her, Naia’s back against his chest, their knees sticking out of the water. Murphy’s arm is around her belly, drawing lazy circles on her skin.

“John?” Naia breaks the silence since nobody else except the lady working here is in the room.

“Mhm?” he responds and from the tone she suspects he began to doze off.

“Ai hod you in,” she says and as she expected, she feels Murphy stir behind her at the sound of her mother tongue.

“Wh-”

“It means I love you,” she completes her sentence, turning slightly so she can look at Murphy over her shoulder. “I really do. I don’t know where I would be without you.” His hair hangs around his head in wet strands and Naia brushes one behind his ear as he eyes her.

“I love you too,” he finally says, rather hoarsely, which could still be from his flu, but Naia knows him better than that.

“You don’t have to say it if…” but this time Murphy interrupts _her_.

“I do love you,” he simply says, and he bends his head forward to kiss Naia. It’s a simple kiss, nothing special really, but it feels like so much more. As they break apart, Naia looks up at him through her lashes.

“Let’s go back home, okay?”

So they do. They sky is overcast as they hurry from the bath house back home, announcing another heavy dose of snow. As they close the door behind them, Naia begins to stack another layer of wood onto the fire but Murphy drags her away from it and to their bed, gently shoving her down.

“John, what?” Naia asks confused, but Murphy kisses her instead. Cupping her cheeks with his hands, he sucks her bottom lip between his teeth, softly biting down on it. A small moan escapes Naia and Murphy feels her loosen under his touch. With another kiss he presses her down onto the bed, straddling her.

“John, I’m…” Naia starts but it ends in a sigh as Murphy kisses a trail down her neck, unlooping the scarf from around her neck and dropping it on the floor. He opens the buttons of her jacket and shoves it to her shoulders and Naia gets the hint. As she takes her jacket off, Murphy does the same with his. But when the girl attempts to get rid of her shirt too, Murphy stops her.

“My turn.”

He leans down again, going on where he stopped, and places a kiss at the nape of Naia’s neck and, pulling down the seam of the neckline of Naia’s shirt, lets his lips wander along her collarbones. He feels himself harden in his pants as Naia’s fingers curl around his upper arms when he kisses her navel. He moves towards her breasts, his fingers shoving her top up as he goes until he reaches the round of her breasts. Sliding his hands under the fabric, he cups them as Naia’s breathing accelerates. He notices that he’s breathing faster, too.

“I want you, Naia,” Murphy murmurs, the words hanging in the air as he says them, and he carefully looks up at her. Her eyes are still heavy-lidded, but a smile is forming on her lips.

“I want you too.”

 

\--- three months later, april ---

 

“A bit further in, you need to go a bit further in,” Murphy calls at her from the shore. Naia does as she’s told, holding her dress up even more. She’s standing in the water, but it reaches barely to the half of her calves. “There are no fish that near at the shore,” he explains further. “If you want me to teach you how to catch fish with a spear, you need to do as I say,” he says playfully. Naia knows it’s a play he sometimes plays with her, but she doesn’t mind that he mocks her sometimes. She does too, after all.

It’s a sunny April day and the first trees are beginning to bud, the air so warm that you don’t need a jacket in the afternoon anymore.

Naia now stands in the cool water up to her knees, the spear firmly in her grip. The sun is reflecting on the surface and it makes it hard for her to see the fishes, if there are. She wipes the sweat collecting on her forehead away with the back of her hand and looks up again.

Over at the shore is John, sitting amidst the high grass, patching a net back together. And it’s like he sensed that she’s staring at him because he looks up and when their eyes meet, he smiles at her.

And it’s not weakness to have a kind heart.

It’s strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and as an extra for you, I made a [post](http://m-rphy.tumblr.com/private/133819898945/tumblr_nyafqqH0T41qzjkq2) for you of all the stuff I made for this story.   
>  And as usual, if you enjoyed this, please leave kudos and comments. I am grateful for everyone who followed this story and encouraged me to keep writing and FINALLY finishing this! I love all of you, thank you so much! <3


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